


Victorian Masque

by WingsofLight



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Britain, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Death, Language, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Oral Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:59:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 71,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24499825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingsofLight/pseuds/WingsofLight
Summary: Set in Victorian England. Seto is a Victorian-era nobleman caught up in a whirlwind affair with crown prince Atemu, though he doesn't even know his name. Yuugi, Atemu's cousin, harbors a dark secret and hapless Constable Katsuya is under Yuugi's thrall.I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or anything affiliated with it. It is owned by Kazuki Takahashi, Toei, Shueisha, Konami, etc. I make no money from writing these stories
Relationships: Prideshipping (AU), Wishshipping (AU) (background)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Note: For my AUs, their Japanese names/spellings are used. Maybe that's dumb, but there you are. It's to differentiate in my mind this does not follow canon.  
> Second note: Constable is actually a low-level police authority, while Joey/Katsuya is the highest ranked officer, and should probably be called Inspector. However, I like the word so much better, so it's the reverse for this AU.  
> Third note: This timeline is a mix of Queen Victoria's entire reign, so some events are squashed together, rewritten, or omitted entirely. However, I tried to keep as much historical accuracy as I could while making it an AU.

Victorian Masque

Seto sighed in annoyance, glaring at the ridiculous outfit his brother’s maid had lain out on the dressing chair. Said brother was perched on the corner of the bed, watching with a smile. He knew how much Seto didn’t want to wear it.

“Don’t look like that,” Mokuba said. “You have to go. The king requires it.”

Seto frowned, picking up the mask. The half-mask was blue, with silver and green sparkles forming a fan pattern from the bridge of the nose. The shape was that of a long-nosed paramour caricature. The accompanying green hat held two long pheasant feathers trailing from the right side of the band. The outfit was a white shirt under a green vest with matching pants, blue stockings and shoes, and a white tailcoat. Not too different from his own normal dress, except it was ludicrously loud and colorful, as well as with the stupid hat. 

“It’s a costume party,” Mokuba reminded him. “Everyone’s wearing something like that.”

Seto grumbled under his breath, but reluctantly changed. Once he had put everything on, including the mask and hat, Mokuba grinned, clearly trying not to laugh. Seto glared, promising death.

“Things like this are only for the lazy and vapid,” Seto said. “If I were king, I’d make sure people spent their time more wisely.”

Mokuba’s smiled faded and he looked worried, gaze darting around the room. “Don’t say things like that! People might think it’s treason.”

Seto scowled, but shut his mouth. King Aknamkanon might be a fair and widely-beloved ruler, but his regime was still renowned for being unforgiving of traitors and criminals. For his brother’s sake, at least he could hold his tongue. 

Mokuba looked at the clock on the mantel. “It’s almost three. The carriage is going to be here soon.”

He was stuck for it. The king’s annual costume ball was mandatory for at least one adult member of any household in the kingdom with noble blood. Seto and Mokuba’s father had passed away the previous winter, following their mother, who had died a few years previously, making Seto the head of the household. Thankfully their late mother and father had both been of noble lineage in good standing, leaving them both cared for.

Seto headed to the ground floor of the mansion, and outside to await the carriage that was making it’s way up the road. Mokuba waved when he got inside and it took off again. He settled in for the long ride. Their land lay closer than most to the castle, but it was still nearly five hours by carriage. If not for the dust and sweat of horseback, he would have ridden his favored mount. He could get there by three hours if he’d been allowed to his own devices.

At long last the carriage was pulling up to the grandiose palace. Seto exited the carriage, ignoring the attendant, and entered the castle. In the ball room, he headed down the stairs to the floor, wondering how long he had to stay before he could leave.

The ball room was grand, lit by three giant chandeliers with dozens of flickering candles and glittering crystals. Torches lined the four walls in their sconces and the enormous fireplace roared with flames. Several long tables forming a rectangle stood on a dais against one wall, ready for the banquet later in the evening. No one was sitting yet, and instead were out on the floor, mingling and dancing to the orchestra in one corner. No one would sit to eat until the king arrived.

Seto reluctantly headed to the floor, dodging the advances of several women and ignoring the greetings of other men. He went to stand near the entrance to the garden terrace where he could at least get some fresh air from the overwhelming miasma of perfumes. From that spot he could watch everything closely and make it undeniably clear he wasn’t going to participate in the night’s festivities. Nevertheless, some of the stupider women came over to try and chat him up. Seto rebuffed them all callously, angering some, frightening some, and upsetting one so much she began to cry. Seto smiled thinly as she ran off, sobbing, ignoring the looks he got from the other attendees.

“That’s no way to make friends,” a voice murmured at his elbow.

Seto turned. Behind a glittering purple-and-gold butterfly opera mask and matching ball gown was an older woman, her hair powdered and coiffed into a towering beehive of curls. She lowered her mask on its stem and smiled. Her face was pleasant and friendly, like a treasured grandmother’s. The twinkle in her green eyes said she was amused by Seto’s actions, rather than bothered. 

“Maybe I don’t want friends,” Seto countered.

The old woman smiled and lifted her mask back up. “Maybe you don’t want them, but everyone needs them, especially if they have position and money. Of course, when you have position and money, even friends can turn into enemies.”

“So it’s better not to have them.”

The woman chuckled softly. “Maybe so. I’m Alexandra de Corbain, aunt of the Duchess of York.”

She curtsied elegantly, and Seto reluctantly bowed and introduced himself. Alexandra nodded.

“I was sorry to hear of your father’s passing.”

“Thank you.”

She seemed to hear the censure in his voice and didn’t press the matter. Instead she encompassed the room with her gaze and said, “Such a gathering of silly, ravenous vultures as you ever saw. Why the king continues to have these balls, I couldn’t say.”

Seto’s thoughts exactly. “Maybe he wants to know who remains every year,” he said. “Keep an eye on who obeys his every command, what alliances are formed, and who could be a threat.”

“That’s a very cynical thing to say for one so young.”

Seto shrugged. “Reality.”

“True.”

A servant brought them fresh glasses of wine. From the way Alexandra greeted hers, she was quite fond of wine. Seto sipped his, studying the room again. The giant grandfather clock across the room read nearly nine. He’d been here an hour, so surely he could go soon. He started to turn to Alexandra to mention this, when a flash of darkness amidst all the vibrant color caught his eye and he turned to look. 

A man stood near the grandfather clock, his outfit consisting of black shirt, vest, pants, stockings, shoes, and top hat. The lining of his black cloak was scarlet red. His half-mask was interesting. Even from this distance Seto could see it was in the shape of a hawk with wings outstretched, black with shiny black sequins. 

“Who is that?” Seto asked.

Alexandra followed his gaze and squinted, lowering her mask. “I don’t know. Strange. I usually know everyone.” She smiled at Seto’s look. “I may think they’re shallow, useless creatures, but it’s still wise to know their names.”

Seto frowned, sipping his wine and studying the other across the room. He appeared just as aloof as Seto, standing alone and not dancing or talking with anyone. His gaze was sweeping the crowd, and even with the mask on, Seto could see he looked bored. 

“How is your brother, Mr. Kaiba?” Alexandra asked. “Now that your father is gone, you’re raising him alone.”

Hardly alone, considering the estate employed two maids, a butler, a cook, and a groundskeeper, but Seto knew what she meant. Distracted, he turned to her. “He’s fine. He does a better job of making sure the servants care for the estate than I do.”

Alexandra smiled, a little drunkenly. Her first wine was finished and a servant had replaced it. Seto suspected she was usually drunk. He was disappointed. She’d seemed very smart and genuine and it was a bit of a let down to find she was a lush. Seto had almost a little tolerance for drunks as he did idiots.

His gaze moved back to the man by the grandfather clock, only to find that he was gone. Skimming the crowd with his gaze, he couldn’t see him. The floor was crowded with whirling couples, the crush of color and glittering jewels irritating. After several more minutes, he had had enough. It was time to go, if he could leave. 

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Alexandra said. Despite being on her third glass of wine, she seemed to still be lucid enough. “These maybe be happy times, boy, but it seems like everyone would be happy to start rumors about everyone. You leave in the middle of a mandatory party… and you might seem like a Russian sympathizer.”

She was, of course, referring to the Crimean War, and this was such a ridiculous statement that Seto snorted. 

“As if anyone would suggest that I or my house supported the Russians.”

Alexandra shrugged. She’d lowered her mask and was just holding it by the handle at her side, her other hand holding her wineglass. “Intrigue is everything now, and people are way too eager to believe anything.” She took another sip of wine. “No matter how stupid.”

Seto frowned. But it was a decent threat. King Aknamkanon might be a good and well-liked king, but not everyone in his court was. It was well known that some of the court abused their position. A courtier named Mercer’s oldest son had been locked away in prison just the previous month, and Seto knew the Mercers; they were no more treasonous than the king himself, but the patriarch of the Mercer household had refused an offer of courting for his oldest daughter by the Lord Chancellor. What a coincidence that just a few weeks later his eldest son would be charged with espionage.

So Alexandra was probably right. Now was not a time to tempt the danger of the court. It hurt a great deal to stick around like a horse whose spirit was broken, but though England was experiencing a time of relative peace and prosperity, there was plenty of sneaking around, trying to ruin other people’s lives, by those who were rich, bored, and mean. Seto didn’t need that sort of negative attention. The family’s landholding was large, and there were several other peer families who would be glad to have it. And now that Seto’s father had died, making him the head of the household, there was likely to be even more attempts at takeover. 

Seto sighed in defeat, but walked away from the glittering, swirling mass on the floor, heading outside to fresh, cool air of twilight. Couples and groups were mingling on the large terrace, but there were far fewer people out here and it didn’t take long for Seto to find a secluded spot to stand in. In the shadowy corner of the terrace, standing next to a large honeysuckle bush that gave off a sweet fragrance, Seto looked out over the impressive rose garden. The moon was beginning to rise over the tops of the trees, turning the blood red roses to velvet purple, the pale yellow to burnished gold, and the innocent white to glistening silver. 

Seto stood there for quite some time, so long that most of the couples out enjoying the night had gone back inside, as the time for the feast drew nearer. Seto pushed it, staying in place even when the trumpets indicating the arrival of the king played. He watched as some of the other late guests trotted dutifully back to the palace, coming up the stairs of the terrace and passing him on their way in. One or two glanced at him curiously, but he didn’t return their gaze, still looking out over the gardens, which formed a long maze of rose bushes, common spotted orchid, foxglove, and more flowers Seto didn’t recognize. In the center stood a circular fountain, from which six rearing horses on which angels rode, spouted water from their mouths into a deep base. In the center was a spire, water shooting straight up and falling straight back down. Even from this distance, Seto could hear the faint splash of the water into the pool at the bottom. It was a much more pleasant sound than the chatter and music inside the palace.

“Nice night,” a soft voice murmured, startling him.

Seto turned. Standing a few feet from him, gazing out over the gardens, was the black-and-red clad man Seto had spotted beneath the clock. Up close, Seto could take in more detail. The first thing he noticed was that the man was quite short, the top of his top hat barely reaching Seto’s chin. He was slender, his skin pale in the light spilling from the open doors and the moonlight through the sparse clouds. The hawk mask on his face spread elegantly from his nose outward. And it was there a second thing that caught his attention, as the other turned to face him, though it was hard to be sure in the poor light.

The stranger’s eyes were scarlet. Seto stared openly, shocked by the sight of such bright red eyes peering from the wings of the ebony hawk. The eyes were arresting, large and compelling, staring back up at Seto intently. 

“I saw you staring at me across the room,” the other said finally. His soft voice was deep and rich, almost as enthralling as the scarlet eyes. “Was there something you wanted to say?”

Seto’s voice seemed to be lost to him. It was only when an amused smile spread across the other’s face beneath his mask did Seto find it.

“No. I was merely looking around. It’s your fault if you’re conceited enough to think I looking at you only.”

A slender black eyebrow arched, but rather than be hurt or offended as all of the women who Seto had insulted had been, this stranger seemed even more amused. The bright red eyes trailed briefly over Seto’s costume and his smile widened. Seto glared, then jerked his chin towards the brightly lit interior of the palace.

“Why aren’t you in there with all the other gossip-grubbing, arse-kissing socialites?”

The eyebrow rose again. “Perhaps for the same reason I suspect you aren’t; I’m not a gossip-grubbing, arse-kissing socialite. These parties bore me.” He gestured with his hand towards the gardens and starting walking towards the stairs. “Join me?”

For a moment, Seto didn’t move. Who was this smart-mouthed stranger? But then Seto headed towards the stairs, following the other into the garden. Their boots made soft thuds against the earth, the pair of them walking silently side-by-side through the maze of a trail towards the fountain. They came out into the clearing, the dull roar of the fountain now much louder, the soft chirrups of crickets barely audible. The light of the palace was now a distant thing, and the dominating glow came from the climbing moon above. 

“Ah, much better,” the stranger said. “I much prefer silence to the words of fools.”

Seto grunted in agreement, watching the other walk over to a foxglove bush and bend slightly to sniff the pleasant aroma of the blossoms. The other turned and saw him watching, smiling.

“I’m sure that now you’re looking at the flowers, and not me.”

Seto glared, annoyed. A soft chuckle came from the stranger as he straightened up and walked over to him. Seto got the feeling this night was about to become something he remembered for a long time, and he didn’t know why, and he didn’t like the feeling. But the other turned towards the fountain, standing there and watching the water spout from the horses’ mouths and fall into the pool. 

“Have you ever done something you wanted to do on the spur of the moment, just because you wanted to do it?” the stranger asked, though his eyes remained on the pool.

“What do you mean?” 

“I hate the restrictions of what’s expected, don’t you?”

Seto frowned, but before he could ask again what the stranger meant, the other suddenly turned around, facing him. His eyes were no longer so bright here in the moonlight, but they were still intense, arresting. Seto swallowed. He was still staring when the other reached up, his hand cupping the back of Seto’s neck, and pulling him down.

Their lips met.

Seto gasped in surprise, but the other merely wound his arms around his shoulders, his mouth warm against his. The other’s lips worked slowly over his, languid and thorough. A light flick of a tongue against his bottom lip drew another gasp from Seto, that was answered by a purr of approval from the stranger. The other didn’t seem the least bit abashed of his forwardness, or at all concerned with Seto’s reaction. He was just enjoying himself.

Seto found himself wrapping his arms around the lithe body, something instinctive inside him taking over. He returned the kiss, earning a louder noise of approval from the other. One hand slid into his hair, beneath the edge of his ridiculous pheasant-feathered hat, the other lightly gripping his shoulder. Seto ran one hand down the curve of the other’s back, groaning softly when that caused the stranger to arch against him, his body pressing firmly against Seto’s in a way he’d never experienced before.

The kiss was broken as they both gasped for air. Suddenly the night was no longer cool, Seto’s body beginning to warm up in response to what had happened.

He looked down into the bright red eyes of the other, seeing the amusement and satisfaction in that gaze, but also something else. Almost surprise. 

“Who are you?” Seto demanded after a minute.

The stranger had opened his mouth to answer when he suddenly cocked his head to the side. He jerked out of Seto’s arms and smoothed down his vest.

“We have company,” he said in a soft voice, before briskly disappearing down one of the paths leading from the fountain.

Not a quarter minute later, two royal guards appeared from the path he and the stranger had taken to the fountain. Clothed in scarlet and white, each held a bayonet-tipped musket in the crook of his left elbow, leaning against his left shoulder, while a sheathed sword rested against his left side. Both stopped and studied Seto.

“What are you doing out here?” one barked imperiously.

“Getting some fresh air,” Seto retorted.

“The feast has started,” the first guard said. He jerked his head back towards the palace. “Everyone else’s inside.”

The way he said it suggested that no one was welcome outside and he wondered why Seto was. Taking the hint, Seto headed back up the path towards the palace, followed by the two guardsmen. He didn’t know what had become of the stranger in the hawk mask, but he’d evidently heard these two coming and rather than be caught kissing, he’d slipped off and probably had headed back to the palace. Seto would find him out and get some answers out of him.

Back at the palace, Seto entered the Great Hall again, ignoring the glances of other guests, and went to the empty seat one of the guards gestured him towards. He wasn’t surprised to see that the seat was next to Alexandra, who seemed to have kept it open for him. As Seto sat down, he skimmed the gathering in search of the hawk-masked man. To his surprise, he wasn’t among the guests. Seto looked around again, ignoring the small talk and fEasting going on around him, but the other was nowhere to be seen. Had he skipped out on the festivities and gone home? In that case, he was braver or more foolish than anyone else. 

Frustrated, Seto reluctantly turned to the food. But even as he ate and endured the gossip and chatter going on around him, his mind remained on the stranger in the hawk mask with the captivating scarlet eyes.

tbc...

A/N: Another one that's a WIP being added from FF, so updates will be slower.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two:

Seto cursed softly to himself, glowering down at the parchment he’d just unrolled. The messenger stood by nervously. The message was an invitation to a tea dance from Alexandra. A stupid little gathering off all the singles in the nobility to mingle and play games where the women trolled for husbands while pretending to be innocent and virtuous and the men looked for wives while caring only about looks and connections. Seto loathed the whole thing, which Alexandra surely could have guessed from their conversation. So why had she invited him? The invitation was worded cheerfully threatening, implying she would harass him to death until he agreed to attend.

Seto crumpled the parchment into a ball and tossed it into the fireplace.

“Ah, shall I tell the Lady you won’t be attending, sir?” the messenger asked tentatively.

“Yes.”

The messenger bowed, turned, and left. However, Alexandra proved good her threat. In the three weeks leading up to the party, a messenger came bearing a thick, gilded invitation every two days, then every day, then twice a day. Seto stopped allowing his staff to permit the messengers into the house, but apparently they had orders not to let that stop them. Every invitation was left in the letterbox on the wall surrounding the manor. Seto had them all brought in and burnt, at first merely coldly amused at her insistence, but by the twelfth day of Alexandra’s campaign, he was ready to snap. Mokuba was both amused and sympathetic. He understood why Seto didn’t want to go, but also seemed to think it would do him some good.

“I don’t see why it would hurt you to go,” he said over dinner on the sixteenth day.

Seto glared at him across the table. “Because it’s an excuse for vapid, bitchy trollops to attempt to seduce a rich man into marrying her so she can be a vapid, bitchy trollop set for life.”

Mokuba smiled. The fourteen-year-old was not too innocent to know what Seto meant. “I think you’re too cynical, Seto. Surely there has to be someone good there.”

Too cynical. That was what Alexandra had said, and whether it was true, Seto didn’t care. He knew the world was mostly made up of lying, thieving, backstabbing fools. That there might be a few good, intelligent, true people out there among them didn’t change that fact. 

But Alexandra wasn’t content with his opinion. Early in the afternoon on the seventeenth day of invitations, and only three days before her party, she showed up herself in a carriage drawn by four impressive white mares. Seto walked down to the rose-trellis entrance to meet her, although he made sure his expression was far from welcoming. Dressed in an expensive black satin dress, navy mink wrap, and black veiled hat, she didn’t seem the least bit upset or surprised by his cold greeting.

“Alexandra, I’m pretty sure I’ve made my intentions clear,” Seto said as he walked back to the manor with her. 

“I know that,” she said. Unlike at the party, there was no hint of an inebriation to her, and Seto was sure a calculating, intelligent, but not necessarily malevolent woman walked beside him. She knew what he thought of the idea of the party and what he thought of his fellow nobles, but that didn’t stop her from considering that he might be better off with a girlfriend and from scheming to make it happen. She wasn’t a woman out to hurt him, but she was misguided. “I still don’t care. I want you there, Seto.”

“Why?” Seto asked tiredly, walking with her into the manor and into the sitting room. He could have just turned her away, but he didn’t. She might have been trying to play matchmaker, but for the most part, he found himself liking her. It wasn’t everyday he met someone as contemptuous and mistrustful of the current status quo as he was.

“For one, I’d like to have another person I know I can have clever conversations with. We can make fun of all the silly girls and boys who show up.”

“If you think they are silly girls and boys, why are you even having one?”

“My daughter. Anne. She is eighteen now and she has been requesting one.”

“Ah.”

“Have no fear, have no fear, I don’t plan on trying to get my daughter interested in you. I don’t want you as a son-in-law.”

Seto wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult. He chose to ignore it. “Then why else would you think I’d want to go? I don’t want to be fawned over by women interested in my money and land.”

“Not all women are interested in money and land,” Alexandra said, as if she had to defend her gender and maybe she did. “And anyway, I already told you that I want you there for someone to talk to. I love my Anne, and she is quite smart, but she has no interests other than riding horses and pursuing men, I’m afraid. Plus, you never know, you might meet someone you’ll end up interested in.”

“I’m not the marrying kind.”

Alexandra smiled. “I wouldn’t be surprised, but you never know. And if you think I’m going to give up, you’re wrong. I rather like getting my way.”

Seto could see that. In that respect, she was also like him. He glared at her, but she didn’t look upset. And between her and his brother, he was going to be hounded to death. They both seemed to think he needed to be around more people. Pity he didn’t agree.

“I appreciate your invitation, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

Alexandra merely smiled. She knew he was being falsely polite in order to make his refusal that much nastier. She waved her hand.

“I knew you wouldn’t be easy to persuade. You’re so stubborn.”

“And whatever you say, you’re planning on trying to fix me up.” 

Why was the question. They barely knew each other. But perhaps she was a mother hen and she saw an orphaned young man trying to raise his brother and keep the family’s land and inheritance against the rabid dogs of the day, and she thought that trying to fix him up with a woman to marry would not only help cement his position in society, but would give him love and support. Although what she didn’t know was that Seto had no desire to find a woman and marry.

The image of bright red eyes suddenly filled his mind’s eye. Startled by both the thought and the sharpness of the memory of those eyes, he didn’t realize Alexandra was still talking to him.

“Fix you up? My dear boy, getting you a woman to marry would hardly take effort on my part. You’re handsome, young, intelligent, and wealthy. Any woman from sixteen to sixty would jump at the chance to become your wife.”

Seto’s nose wrinkled at the thought of having sixty-year-old women throwing themselves at him. Although the thought of the sixteen-year-olds wasn’t much better. 

“Even if you aren’t looking to get married, what’s the harm in a little get-together?”

“And you have no ulterior motive whatsoever.”

Alexandra sighed. If it weren’t for the action being unladylike, Seto suspected she would have rolled her eyes. “I don’t like you being out here all alone with your brother for your only company. The pair of you need to socialize with people your ages.”

So she was a mother hen. And women like her did not let go of their resolves easily. She would not back off, no matter what he said. And her only motive it seemed was concern for his welfare. While Seto yearned to tell her off for meddling in his business, he knew that doing so might only alienate her and quite possibly gain him an influential enemy, or it might not concern her whatsoever as she knew what type of person he was and she would just continue on anyway.

“If I agree to go, and hate it, will you never ask me to another one?”

Alexandra looked at him shrewdly. “How will I know you’re not just saying that?”

“By guessing that I have too much dignity to lie about enjoying a party. And knowing that no matter what you say or do, I won’t enjoy it anyway.”

Alexandra frowned, and Seto was sure she was disappointed with his attitude, but it didn’t stop her. She stood up and turned her frown into a smile. Seto stood with her.

“Well, Seto, you have a deal. Come to my party, stay the whole time, and if you really don’t enjoy it, I’ll never ask you to another one.”

Seto decided to take her at her word. So despite the fact that she’d used the tactics of a general laying siege to another’s city, he agreed to attend. He saw her out to her carriage and then returned to the manor, feeling grumpy. He’d only agreed to get her to leave him alone. Now he could only hope she would do so, however noble her intentions might be. Or however noble she thought they might be.

Well, he was stuck for it. Three days from now, the party would commence and he’d suffer through the annoying day. He could only hope her tea dance wasn’t a long one.

******

The day had come. It was with great trepidation that Seto boarded his carriage and made the journey to Alexandra’s house in London. She owned an old, three-story house in West End. The Queen Anne-style house had pink siding, gingerbread trim, and a round viewing tower on the left. There was climbing ivy, rose bushes, and shrubs, and several large, ancient trees. But the crowning jewel of the place was the large, jewel-like stained-glass window in the parlor. The house spoke of wealth, lineage, and power. The sort of house one might expect the aunt of a Duchess to have.

Seto disembarked from his carriage and strode up to the front door. He was deliberately a few minutes late, letting Alexandra know again that he did this reluctantly. 

He was let in by a butler and led into the parlor with the stained glass window. It was a surprisingly large room, featuring fancy furniture, subdued colors that allowed the window to be the dominant aspect, and about twenty guests. Those in attendance weren’t limited to this room, as Seto could hear more conversation coming from two rooms down the hall. The invited were the cream of the crop when it came to the rich and powerful singles of the country. Seto recognized several merchants’ sons, countesses’ daughters, and the like. Alexandra herself was present, by far the oldest person in the room, and she came over when she saw Seto in the doorway, smiling broadly.

“Well, don’t we look handsome?” she said, in a soft enough voice that no one else would hear. 

Seto was wearing a black button-up shirt, black pants, a white vest and white coat, a blue bow-tie, and his hat and gloves. “And you said you weren’t planning on trying to fix me up.”

Alexandra smiled mischievously. “I’m not. But if you catch the eye of some pretty lady, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Seto glared at her. She merely continued to smile and went back to her seat. Seto reluctantly moved and sat down in another available chair, ignoring the lady closest to him. She was the middle daughter of a baron, which was all Seto knew. She was also remarkably ugly and giggly. It would take her father’s position of power to get her married.

The gathering was underway, and needed no prodding from Alexandra. The groups of young people were chattering nonstop to each other, several couples flirting in a way that would have gotten strict reprimands if their parents had been present. Seto ignored everyone, though he was beginning to get thoroughly annoyed by the persistent attention a countess’ daughter was giving him. He knew who she was, as his mother had been friends with hers. Charlotte was the youngest daughter of six, and about two years younger than Seto himself. She had had a fancy for Seto since they were children, although Seto hadn’t seen her since his mother had died. She had developed into a stunningly pretty girl, but she knew it, and as Seto had heard, she made sure everyone else knew it, too. 

“Seto, darling, what do you think of my dress?” Charlotte asked him. 

Her dress was a lovely pale green that complimented her dark hair and eyes. Seto looked at her and shrugged, then stood up. Charlotte looked offended.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere from you,” Seto muttered under his breath as he left the parlor and headed towards another part of the house. The noise coming from the library and the sun room was just as loud, and Seto was not up to sitting in on more inane conversation and flirting. He could hear the words coming from the sun room and wished even more greatly to avoid them as they were playing Charades. He continued on down the hall, and heard soft piano music playing. While it indicated there was someone there in the music room, there was otherwise silence, and so he went there. It would have been inappropriate for him to go upstairs, or into the kitchen or dining room, and if he went outside, he’d likely be followed by Alexandra for not upholding his promise to attend the gathering. Whether or not he’d wanted to come in the first place.

He stopped in the doorway to the music room, intending to just glance in to see how many people were in there. 

There was only one.

The stranger from the costume ball. Despite having only seen him with hat and mask on, Seto knew it was him. As he stood rooted in the doorway, the stranger played lightly on the piano, a soft melody that was somehow haunting and painfully sad. Seto had never heard the tune before, and wondered whether the stranger had learned it, or made it up. 

He stood there and listened, but also watched the stranger. His head was bent over the piano, and he had his hat on, so much of his face was obscured, but Seto knew it was him. As before, oddly-shaped blond bangs stuck out from beneath the hat, trailing all the way down past his chin. What Seto could see of his outfit consisted of black shirt and coat and red vest and tie. He was fond of such colors, it seemed.

The song ended and the stranger’s eyes flicked up to where Seto was standing. Surprise flickered across his face for a split second, then he smiled. He seemed to recognize Seto just as easily.

“Hello, again.”

Caught, Seto hesitated, then stepped into the music room. The stranger didn’t move from the piano, his hands still resting on the keys while he watched Seto approach. 

“I didn’t know you were here,” the stranger said. 

“Alexandra invited me. Why are you here?”

“I would guess for the same reason.”

Seto glared, though he was embarrassed by having asked such a dumb question. “It’s clear you don’t like these fools anymore than I do, so why would you accept?”

The stranger shrugged his shoulders and looked down, then played a quick scale on the piano. “It is still something to do.”

“Hmph.”

The stranger looked up again and Seto saw that his eyes were indeed the brightest of reds, with small flecks of maroon to add dimension. And as before, they were utterly arresting. Staring into those eyes, Seto was reminded of the kiss they had shared in the palace garden. Unexpected…but not unwelcome, he was realizing.

The stranger smiled, as if he knew the line of Seto’s thoughts, but his gaze went back to the piano. Another melody started, just as melancholy as the first, but with an undertone that suggested cold rage. If there had been words attached to the melody, Seto thought they would be about revenge. He stood there on the other side of the piano and listened to the short piece, which ended so abruptly that Seto knew without asking that the stranger had written the piece himself and that it wasn’t finished.

One the last of the notes had died away, the stranger looked up again. He smiled, then got to his feet. Seto tensed, wondering what he was going to do now. Even having known this person no more than a few hours, he knew the other was unpredictable and impulsive. 

“So, what brings you to this room?” the stranger asked.

“Escaping unwanted attention.”

The stranger tipped his face up to look Seto directly in the eyes, and Seto saw his face fully for the first time. His scarlet eyes were definitely the most striking aspect, but all of his features were beautiful. And he seemed to be just as intrigued with studying Seto was Seto was with him. A smile played across his lips when he caught Seto’s gaze lingering there.

“Do you find my mouth fascinating?” he murmured, his voice dropping to low whisper.

Seto didn’t say anything. He only stood there as the stranger came closer, stepping so close that barely an inch of space separated them. He looked up Seto intently, and seemed to be waiting. 

Seto wasn’t thinking, he merely leaned down slowly, aware that the other tipped his face up in accommodation, and their mouths met. It was like the kiss in the gardens; the strangers arms wound around his neck, one hand pressing flat against Seto’s shoulder blade, the other curled against his opposite shoulder. His mouth pressed against Seto’s without hesitation or shyness. The flick of the tip of a tongue against his upper lip made Seto groan softly. He wrapped his arms around the stranger, pulling him up against him, kissing him back deeply. A soft thump told him the stranger’s hat had fallen to the ground, but it wasn’t until his lungs were aching for air did he break the kiss.

Freed from the hat on the floor, Seto got a good look at the other’s hair. It was spiky and split into three colors, red, gold, and black. It was ludicrous, and yet it seemed to suit his personality. The stranger reached up and impishly removed Seto’s hat, tossing it to the floor. 

“Who are you?” Seto asked.

The other merely smiled, then tilted his head. Seto gasped as he started kissing his neck, warm lips working softly over the skin, sending tingles racing through Seto’s body, sending his heart thumping. He regained himself somewhat and pushed the other back, holding him by the arms. But he didn’t say anything and the stranger didn’t either for a moment.

“I won’t tell you my name,” he said. “And I don’t want to know yours. It’s much more exciting that way.”

Seto stared at him. “How do you know I’m not a crazed murderer?”

A bright flash of glee shone in the other’s eyes. “I don’t. That’s what makes it fun.”

“I could be Jack the Ripper,” Seto said finally.

“So could I.” The stranger pressed against his restraining hold, which wasn’t restraining very hard, until he was flush against him again. His face came within an inch of Seto’s, his breath brushing over his lips. “You have no idea who I am,” he said in an almost preoccupied murmur. 

His mouth met Seto’s again in a hungry kiss. Seto closed his eyes and pulled him hard against him, returning the kiss. This was a stupid, stupid thing to do, and yet not a bit of logic entered his mind. 

The other suddenly pulled back slightly, his breathing rough and uneven, like Seto’s. He smiled, then suddenly reached down and grasped Seto’s belt buckle. Startled, Seto jerked back, his back hitting the curve of the piano. With nowhere to go, he grabbed the other’s wrists as he unbuckled the belt and grasped the zipper.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Seto snarled, hoping his voice didn’t carry.

The other looked up with a wicked grin. “Having some excitement!”

“You don’t know who I am!” Seto retorted, shoving the stranger’s hands away, though they just kept coming back. 

“No.”

“The door’s open!”

“Yes.”

Despite Seto’s attempts to stop him, the belt and zipper were undone and his pants opened. The other dropped to his knees, making Seto freeze in a surreal state of shock. Some more rustling was followed by a warm caress of a tongue against his half-hard member. A forced moan left Seto’s throat and he grabbed the edge of the piano for support, leaning on his forearm against the edge of its top. His eyes flicked to the open doorway, but there was no one there. 

Another pass of a tongue sent a jolt of pleasure through Seto’s body, making his knees weak. He looked down at the spiky-haired head at his crotch. The warm, wet tongue rolled over the tip and he gasped, his eyes briefly fluttering shut. Slowly the other took him into his mouth and the sensation of sliding inch by inch into that wet heat drove him crazy. He leaned heavily against the piano, his other hand clenching in a fist at his side, eyes squeezed shut and blocking out everything but that pleasure. But after a moment he forced himself to open his eyes, keeping his gaze on the doorway. This was crazy, and they didn’t need to be caught.

The threat of being caught didn’t seem to worry the stranger any. He continued to suck, his tongue tracing patterns that sent shocks through Seto’s body. The pressure was building low in Seto’s abdomen and it was a real struggle to keep his eyes open. He moaned, shaking, as the stranger sucked harshly while pulling up. His end was fast approaching and he couldn’t hold on. 

The other pulled back to run his tongue along the underside of the length, not seeming concerned with hurrying. His hand cupped him between the legs through his pants, lightly pressing his balls upwards, while his tongue wiggled more little patterns. Seto growled, pushing himself forward, his instincts taking over again, like they had there in the garden. This stranger’s presence was overwhelming. 

At last he pulled him into his mouth again, sucking and bobbing his head, his bangs brushing against Seto’s stomach and abdomen, heightening the sensations. He was so close to coming. He thrust a little against him, unable to help himself. The other purred in response, rolling his tongue and sucking harshly. 

The end crashed over him and Seto let his head drop back, his eyes closing as he hissed through his teeth. Waves of pleasure washed through him, making him shudder uncontrollably, as he released in the stranger’s mouth. The other swallowed and sat back on his haunches, licking his lips. Seto continued to lean on the piano, opening his eyes while he panted and recovered from the orgasm. Looking thoroughly self-satisfied, the stranger got to his feet, reaching out to set Seto’s clothes straight, his face tilted up, body close, still teasing and tantalizing Seto while he made him presentable again.

“Who…are you?” Seto panted.

The stranger merely smiled, then stood up on his tiptoes and pressed a kiss against the edge of Seto’s jaw. He settled back on his feet and turned away, leaving the room as if nothing had happened.

It took several minutes for Seto to catch his breath and feel back to normal. Though his body had returned to normal, his head was still confused and dazed by what had just happened. That person was a like a whirlwind, coming out of nowhere, claiming, and disappearing all over again. 

Seto straightened up, glancing down at his clothes, although the stranger had set them back perfectly. All that was left was his hat. He moved away from the piano and went to retrieve it, and saw that the stranger’s hat was still on the floor by his. He picked both up, putting his on his head, and studied the other in his hands. A hat of fine quality, with a red band around it. 

Seto left the room with the hat in his hands.

tbc...


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three:

The hat remained in Seto’s possession the next fortnight. He had no way of contacting the stranger to retrieve it, so it remained with him, resting on a shelf in his wardrobe, all but forgotten. Or, at least, forgotten in his waking hours. At night, Seto’s dreams were filled with a deep voice whispering mischievously. With bright red eyes unlike any he’d ever seen before. More than once, he’d woken up, hot and breathless. And disturbed at the depths of which this strange affected him. 

Around the first of September and the beginning of the harvest season, Seto went in to London. The bustling city was as crowded, noisy, and dirty as it ever was. In a mere hour, Seto had dodged over two dozen vendors, beggars, and even a pickpocket, who melted quickly into the crowd when Seto saw him at his elbow, reaching for his pocket. He was gone before Seto could get a good look at his face. 

Finished with his business and eager to head home, Seto was turning a corner when a bright red flash caught his eye and he looked automatically. On several occasions he’d found his gaze drawn by glimpses of red, though these had invariably been flowers, signs, or some such mundane thing. Not this time, though. Strolling placidly along the walk across the street was the red-eyed stranger. He was not alone; on either side and a step behind were two attendants, one young and nervous-looking and the other much older and looking annoyed to be where he was. He was talking to the stranger irritably, but seemed to be being largely ignored.

Seto hesitated, then crossed the street and followed the stranger and his accompaniment for a distance. The stranger turned in to a shop, much to the displeasure of the older man, whose scowl Seto could see from where he stood. The attendants followed their master inside. When Seto reached the shop, he saw that it was a bookshop. In the window display was a shiny new copy of “Madame Bovary.” Quite the bold thing for the shopkeeper to do.

Seto entered the shop. It was a tiny room; two adjacent walls were lined with shelves, and three stand-alone and parallel shelves took up nearly every available space. There was barely enough space to walk. The opposite corner was taken up by a selling counter, behind which stood the shopkeeper. The expression on his face was simpering, eager-to-please, a man who would lick your boots for a sale. Seto ignored him disdainfully and looked around. The stranger was not in sight, but Seto could hear the voice of the annoyed servant from behind the furthest of the three parallel shelves and see the tail coats of younger, nervous servant’s coat. 

“You shouldn’t be reading these things, Master,” the old man said. “They’re full of dangerous, radical ideas.”

“That’s why I like them,” the stranger said audaciously. “And if you’re going to whine in my ear like a hornet all day, James, you can leave.”

There was a short silence that was filled with the tangible sense of offense taken, then the old man started again, telling the stranger that his father would not like the news of what the red-eyed man was doing, at which point the stranger was fed up and ordered the old servant out. Both attendants left the shop. As they passed Seto near the other end of the shop, Seto could hear the older one muttering darkly. The younger one simply looked perpetually frightened. Seto waited a moment, then went around the end of the last bookshelf. Down near the end, by the merging corners of the two wall shelves, stood the stranger, skimming through a book. Seto stood and looked at him for a moment, then walked over.

“I see you’ve found another hat,” he said.

The stranger looked up. A delighted smile spread across his face.

“Yes, I did. But I rather liked the old one. I don’t suppose you still have it.”

“Maybe somewhere,” Seto said carelessly. He didn’t want to seem as if he’d been thinking about the stranger at all. 

The red-eyed man smiled again, then snapped his book shut. Seto saw that it was a slightly battered copy of “The Age of Reason.” An extremely bold person, this stranger was, reading such things in public, and the shopkeeper as well, for selling them. 

“Then let us go get it.”

Seto blinked, then frowned. “Just like that? How do you know I haven’t anything better to do?”

The stranger put the book back on the shelf. “Even if you do, I want my hat back.”

“Then you shouldn’t have lost it, if it’s so important.”

The stranger ignored that. He glanced towards the front of the shop and frowned. “If I leave, those fools will follow and whine incessantly some more. I rather think I shall avoid them.” He looked over his shoulder. At the back of the shop, bisecting the wall shelf, was a doorway that led to the shopkeeper’s storeroom. It was blocked from view from the front by the stand-alone shelves. “Come on.” 

The stranger ducked boldly into the storeroom. Seto followed reluctantly. The storeroom was gloomy, musty, and there was no other door, just a grimy window already open onto a narrow, filthy alley.

“Brilliant,” Seto said sarcastically. 

The red-eyed man looked at the window, then looked at Seto and flashed a wide grin. In the space of thirty seconds, he’d clambered through the window, agile as a cat. On the other side, he beckoned.

“I’m not climbing through a dirty window into a dirtier alley.”

“Then go around and meet me at the end.” He pointed to his left. “And don’t tell my men where I am.”

He started down the alley. Seto had no choice but to slip out of the storeroom again and head for the exit. The shopkeeper was still at the counter and so hadn’t seen them. He looked disappointed as Seto headed to the door empty-handed, but wished him a good day anyway.

Out on the walk stood the servants, mumbling between themselves, the older one checking his pocket watch irritably and casting dark glances at the shop front. He glared at Seto when he saw him glancing their way. No wonder the stranger wanted to slip away. Anyone would want to get away from such a nagging, impatient sourpuss.

The stranger himself was waiting for Seto around the corner. His eyes sparkled with excitement when he saw Seto and he hurried into step with him, heading down the walk towards East End. 

“Where are we going? My carriage is back that way.”

“I know.”

“You wanted to get your hat.”

“Later. Right now, let’s have some fun.”

“Doing what?” Seto asked cautiously.

The man shrugged and kept walking. They winded their way through the streets, ignoring the clamoring crowds. The silence continued between them, but the stranger seemed perfectly content. Seto wasn’t.

“What is your name?”

“I told you, I won’t give you my name and I don’t want to know yours.”

“It’s annoying not to have something to call you by.”

“Then perhaps a code name,” the stranger said seriously. He mused a moment. “You can call me Yami.”

Seto snorted. “Why that name?”

The stranger--Yami, as Seto would think of him from that moment on--looked amused. “Darkness hides many secrets,” he said. “And that’s what we have. A secret.”

“From whom?”

“Everyone.”

“And what secret is it?”

“Why, us! And what has transpired between us.”

That reminded Seto forcefully of what had occurred there in the music room and he felt a hot flush spread across his face. He didn’t dare look gat Yami, for that would only make it much worse. 

“You’d better decide on somewhere to go,” Seto growled, after dodging the nine-hundredth vendor. “Or I’ll leave you here and go home.”

“Well, then, I fancy a drink.”

Yami stopped in front of a pub. While it wasn’t the sort of you’re-likely-to-be-stabbed dive one would find in White Chapel, it wasn’t a place for respectable gentlemen to go either. Seto stared up at the sign above the door, then turned and looked at Yami, who had his hand on the handle.

“You’re joking.”

“No.”

“I’m not going in there.”

“Scared?” Yami eyes glittered brightly and he started to pull open the door. Seto jammed his hand against it and held it shut. Yami looked up at him. They stared at each other for a moment, then Yami smiled and used his other hand to reach up and slide Seto’s from the door. He pulled it open and walked inside, bold and seeming not to care whether Seto followed or not. For a long moment Seto considered not following. Who was this person, this little, whirlwind person with the piercing red eyes? 

Seto followed Yami into the smoky, candle-flickering gloom of the pub. It was only half-filled with men drinking spirits, tended to by two tired-looking middle-aged women while a filthy, glowering man cleaned glasses at the counter. Seto grimaced, but Yami was winding his way confidently through the occupied tables towards an empty one. Seto followed, sitting down with him at the table. One of the tired-looking women brought over two ales, without asking what they wanted. Seto doubted choice was high on the list of priorities for this place.

Yami picked up his glass and took a drink. He pulled a face. “Awful.”

“Then why did you want to come in here in the first place?” Seto demanded. 

“Why else?”

“Excitement,” Seto said dryly. He glanced pointedly around the dismal, quiet pub. “Doesn’t seem to be too much of that here.”

“I’m quite capable of making my own.”

His hand dropped beneath the table and landed on Seto’s thigh. The two glasses on the table rattled as Seto jumped. 

“Stop that!” he hissed.

Yami smiled, his hand sliding quickly up Seto’s thigh and cupping between his legs. Without saying anything, he rubbed, sending pleasure scooting through Seto’s nerves. He shuddered, gripping his glass tightly in both hands, staring at the scarred, stained table in front of him, teeth clenched. Yami sat beside him with his eyes closed, a small smile on his face. He was holding his own glass in his other hand, looking quite innocent, the minx. Meanwhile his left hand continued to rub and knead Seto’s crotch. Seto was rapidly gaining an erection, despite his attempts to mentally suppress it.

“That’s enough,” Seto snarled, reaching out and grabbing Yami’s wrist, yanking his hand away from his crotch. 

No one in the bar seemed to have noticed this exchange. Or, if they had, they were minding their own business. Knowing perfectly well what could happen if someone did see what was happening and objected, Seto stood up rapidly, dragging Yami up from the table. The glass fell from Yami’s other hand, striking the table and upsetting, spilling what of the weak ale he hadn’t drunk. People glanced up this time, but Seto ignored them, dragging Yami roughly along with him. Rather than go past the occupied tables at the moment, he walked towards the back of the pub, where there were a couple of private rooms for illegal card games, opening one of the doors. No one was inside at the moment, thankfully, and Seto yanked Yami into the room, slamming shut the door. He released Yami, who looked up at him, waiting. Seto glared down at him, though it was rather useless to attempt being annoyed when he was standing there in the state that he was.

He reached up, grasping Yami’s shoulders, then hauled him against him and kissed him. Yami moaned, winding both arms around his neck and kissing him back passionately. Ignoring the niggling doubt that he was becoming far too involved with someone who was dangerous simply because he was so reckless, Seto forced Yami to part his lips, sliding his tongue into his mouth. Yami moaned again, sounding almost startled, and pressed against him more tightly. 

Seto broke the kiss for air, then shivered as Yami stood on his toes and began nipping at his neck, his hands gripping his shoulders. Seto slid his in under Yami’s coat, feeling the slender suppleness of his body beneath his shirt and vest. He didn’t know what he was doing; this was definitely not the place to be doing this.

Yami’s mouth covered his again and succeeded in knocking all worries from his mind. He kissed him back, tongue fighting his, running a hand up his back beneath his coat. Yami arched against him and he growled as he felt the obviousness of his desire. He kissed him harder and starting pushing him back against the wall. 

Footsteps suddenly came up to the door. Seto jerked back from Yami not a second before the door opened. Standing in the doorframe were the two attendants, the old one still looking perpetually annoyed though the younger one now looked more curious than frightened. 

“Master,” the older one, James, said. “What are you doing in here?”

His eyes went to Seto, expression suspicious, although there was no possibility either of them had seen anything.

“None of your business,” Yami snapped, seeming quite angry. “What are you doing here?”

“We followed you, didn’t we? Had to ask if anyone seen you. Seemed you gave us the slip.”

“I am quite within my right to do as I please,” Yami said. “And who are you to follow me?”

James didn’t look the least bit abashed by his master’s anger. The scowl on his face would have stopped a rabid cur in its tracks. “Had to, didn’t we? This ain’t the place for you to be. Dodgy. If your father knew--”

“My father will not know,” Yami said coldly. “For you are not to tell him. I will go where I want.”

“M-Master,” the second one said, for the first time speaking. His voice was as timid as his expression. “You’re going to be late for the fox hunt, sir.”

Yami paused. “True. Very well. Go out and return with the carriage.”

“The carriage is waiting out front,” James said.

Yami’s eyes narrowed and he looked exasperated. “Then just go out.”

James glanced at Seto again, then left with the younger servant. He didn’t shut the door. Yami turned to Seto, annoyance evident. But as he looked at Seto, a smile spread across his face. 

“Sorry. Looks like I’ll have to get my hat another day.”

“I don’t--”

“See you later,” Yami said with a mischievous tone and he left.

Seto followed him out, bypassing the tables of drunkards, reaching outside just as Yami was climbing into a fancy black carriage drawn by four magnificent bays. James was in the driver’s seat, the reins of the horses in his hands, while the younger man stood on the ground, holding the door open and waiting for Yami to get settled. Yami glanced up as he sat down in his seat. He gave another smile to Seto, before the younger man shut the door and hauled himself up into the seat beside James. James flicked the reins and the horses started through the street, leaving Seto standing on the sidewalk and watching the carriage disappear.

tbc...


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four:

Seto didn’t see Yami for the next six weeks. The hat remained in his possession with no way to return it as he had no idea where Yami lived. He didn’t try to find out. 

September became October and the feast of All Saints Eve was fast approaching. Leaves began to turn their bright colors and the air was cooling. Harvesters scrambled to get crops in before the year’s first killing frost and everyone began to prepare their homes and carriages for the cold. 

Alexandra had invited him to two more parties, both of which he declined to attend, despite the possibility Yami would be there. He was still struggling with his attraction to him, as well as realizing just how easily they could get caught with Yami’s wild lack of discretion. 

Although, at night, his dreams didn’t care about his misgivings and he woke up sweaty and uncomfortable on a number of occasions. 

Towards the end of October and the FEast of All Hallows’ Eve, Seto received an invitation from the palace for another ball. Annoyed, he tossed the invitation into the fire, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to decline like he had Alexandra. Which of course was why he was so angry. 

This particular ball was not a costume one, which further irritated Seto in its stupidity. Surely the ball of All Hallows’ Eve would be the one to have ridiculous costumes, rather than the one in mid-August? 

The ball was set for one week hence, on 31st October, beginning in the evening and continuing through the witching hour. A ceremony commemorating the saints would be held sometime during the event, which reeked of blasphemy to Seto, though he paid religion little mind. 

As this was a special ball, incorporating both the Feast of All Saints and Beggar’s Night, everyone of nobility from age twelve and upward were invited. Mokuba, at fourteen, fell into this age bracket and unlike Seto, was looking forward to it. He went into London midweek to buy a new outfit and came back acting strangely, as if he had done something he wished to keep secret. When Seto asked about it, he diverted the question, and Seto didn’t push. Mokuba was smart enough to keep himself out of trouble. 

On the day of the ball, both brothers readied themselves, Mokuba wearing his new clothes and Seto putting on his best. The carriage ride to the palace consisted of Mokuba asking Seto questions about proper etiquette and what the previous ball had been like, all questions he had asked before. Seto knew he was nervous, and though their governess had done an excellent job helping to raise him, no amount of reassurance would alleviate Mokuba’s fear he would do something to offend the king.

“The king won’t even notice you or me,” Seto said flatly. “The invitations are sent out by people paid to keep track of noble families and our arrival will be noted by people paid to keep track of royal events and what we say and do will be remembered by people with nothing better to do than remember what other people say and do. The king will sit at the highest table and eat and talk with his family and advisors and not pay a second glance to anyone else.”

Mokuba’s anxiety didn’t seem to lessen any with this cold take on the hours ahead. He kept glancing at his pocket watch and staring out the window. Seto frowned slightly, but refrained from asking him again about his trip to London. He would find out eventually if it were something he needed to know.

The carriage arrived in front of the palace a few hours later and they disembarked. Mokuba was clearly awestruck by the extravagant and beautiful castle, the luxurious furnishings, and even by the bejeweled fellow nobles arriving and mingling everywhere. Seto left him to chat with a few of his peers from school and entered the ballroom. It was almost exactly as it had been before, except that his contemporaries were not wearing ridiculous masks. 

His callous rebuffing of the eligible ladies of the previous dance had either been forgotten or ignored. As Seto stood by himself near the grand entrance, a few of those ladies attempted to engage him. Seto sent them all away, but not half an hour after he’d arrived, Charlotte turned up. Looking quite stunning in an off-the-shoulder white-and-silver ball gown, her dark hair upswept and threaded through with silver ribbon, she smiled brightly and curtsied.

“Hello, Seto darling,” she said, not seeming to notice he didn’t bow back. “I was hoping you’d come.”

“I didn’t have a choice, did I?”

Her smile faltered just slightly as she evidently caught the implication of his rude comment, but she wasn’t to be deterred easily. “Mother and Father are off somewhere, talking theater with some of their friends. Boring. Most of us are planning a game of cricket out in the courtyard. It would be so lovely if you came along.”

Seto knew that what she really wanted was to show her friends that she was with Seto Kaiba. It was no secret to Seto that some of the ladies of the country considered him a prize catch, what with his fortune and his lineage. The Kaibas were a very old and well-respected family in England. Seto’s grandfather had been a personal friend of King Aknamkanon’s father, which everyone knew, and his father had been a playmate of Aknamkanon before they’d grown up and apart. Seto’s father had toured the world before returning to England and marrying Seto’s mother, and he had never fully resumed his friendship with the king. Seto had never met the king before in his life and had no yearning to. His father’s life had been his life and Seto had his own. 

“No,” Seto said in response to Charlotte’s comment. 

“But why not, darling? Surely--”

Seto walked away. It was the rudest way possible to treat her and he hoped that it would finally get it into her airy head that he wasn’t interested in her or her friends. He didn’t look back to see her expression either, as he was sure that she would construe that as him playing hard to get.

“There you are.”

Seto glanced up as Alexandra made her way towards him, accompanied by two younger women. One was her daughter, whom he’d seen briefly, but not formally met, at the tea dance; a dainty but pretty blond girl with almost frighteningly pale blue eyes. The other was a tall, full-figured woman more than a decade older than Anne, but at least twenty years younger than Alexandra, perhaps in her mid-thirties. Her face was pleasant but far from pretty and she had the expression of someone who looked down on everyone. Seto was pretty sure this was the Duchess niece and he was right.

“Seto, you remember my daughter, Anne.” Anne curtsied flawlessly. “And this is my niece, Duchess Catherine of York.” 

The Duchess did not curtsy, but looked at Seto almost contemptuously as he bowed. 

“This is Seto Kaiba,” Alexandra said to the two women. “How are you enjoying yourself, Seto?”

The twinkle in her eye was evidence that she was teasing him and knew perfectly well he loathed to be there. The Duchess was now ignoring them, looking out over the crowd with the same contemptuous look. Seto was willing to bet his land she thought of herself as better than anyone else in the room; the typical spoiled aristocrat.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t attend your gatherings, Alexandra,” Seto said, blatantly lying. “But I’m sure they were delightful.”

Alexandra smiled. She seemed to delight in Seto’s disrespect, rather than be offended. 

“Not to worry, not to worry,” she said. “You’ll find your way to another one eventually.”

Seto was sure she was going to renege on her promise to leave him alone. He had probably just now earned it by lying about being sorry he’d missed her parties. He was saved from having to answer by Anne.

“Mother, Sarah is beckoning. The game is about to start.”

“Do excuse me, Aunt Alexandra,” the Duchess said almost at the same moment. “Edgar will wonder where I’ve gone to.”

Edgar, Duke of York, no doubt. Alexandra and Anne both curtsied to the Duchess. When she cast an imperious eye to Seto, he bowed reluctantly. She swept away with a rustling of her expensive skirts. Anne was already hurrying away to Sarah, a tiny and plain blond girl who was standing halfway across the room, looking impatient. Alexandra turned to Seto.

“Are you going to join in?”

“Of course not.”

Alexandra shook her head sadly. She excused herself and left after her daughter, heading towards the doors that led out to the gardens and the field where the game would be played. The ballroom was now quite a bit emptier as everyone under the age of twenty-five, as well as several older people who were going to watch, had gone outside. Only those who were too arrogant, too preoccupied, or too old to be interested remained. 

“Seto!”

It was Mokuba. He came over, waving on his group of friends, who were heading for the back doors. 

“Seto, we’re going to play badminton. Want to come watch?”

Reluctantly, Seto followed his brother outside. With the choices of standing around and watching Mokuba play or standing around and watching the grandfather clock tick away the long minutes, he chose the less painful.

Outside the air was crisp and refreshing, not too cold to penetrate through the heavy coat Seto was wearing. The grand field to the left was filled with the older teenagers and young people who were playing or watching the game and to the right with the younger children or parents who were watching the badmitton game. Mokuba was chatting with a few of his friends while he waited his turn and smiled at Seto when he saw him take his place on the sidelines to watch.

Mokuba’s skill was quite good. He defeated all nine of his opponents, six within minutes. The undefeated champion of badmitton, he all but disappeared in a crowd of boys and girls congratulating him. Seto smiled to himself, proud of his brother’s success, and congratulated him when he came over. 

“Thanks,” Mokuba said, beaming with pleasure. 

The cheers and groans coming from the cricket field were suddenly drowned out by the loud blasting of horns. The king had arrived. 

King Aknamkanon was standing on the sweeping back terrace above them, between and in front of his royal procession. He was a man a few inches shorter than Seto, fit and handsome, wearing clothes and jewels of the finest quality, a crown on his head. Quickly all of the subjects gathered around, bowing and curtsying to the king, who smiled. His face was kinder than Seto had expected.

“Having fun, are we?” he said, his voice deep and amused. “Good, good. This is a day of merriment.”

Some light applause met this statement. Seto noticed a few of the ladies in front of him trying to surreptitiously pat down their hair or smooth their skirts and it was all he could do not to snort. The queen had died many years ago and the king was known for never having even shown interest in another woman. Seto remembered his mother once talking about it with friends of hers over for tea, all of them more than a little enchanted with the gossip that the queen had been the love of king’s life and that he would not tarnish her memory by taking another lover. Seto’s father, who had also been in the room, had smiled and said that any man who met the true love of his life wouldn’t dream of looking at another woman, and he ought to know. Seto’s mother had smiled so radiantly that Seto, at nine, had been disgusted with the whole mushy thing, though now he remembered his mother’s smile with a far different emotion.

“Don’t let me stop your fun,” King Aknamkanon said to the boys who had been playing cricket. Several of them almost looked frightened at being addressed by the king. “After all, these pretty ladies need something to cheer.”

Said girls giggled and hid their faces behind gloved hands or fans. The boys went back to continue the game and the girls followed, though the older people who had been watching before now stayed around the terrace. The king remained where he was, watching the game while his attendants milled around. Mokuba and his friends ran down to the field to watch the remainder of the cricket match and Seto walked up the terrace steps, joining the small crowd that was observing the distant cricket match from afar.

“Hello again,” a deep, familiar voice murmured.

Seto turned. Standing idly by the doors was Yami, his expression delighted to see Seto again. This time he wore clothing more reserved in color; white shirt, black pants, vest, jacket, and hat. The only splash of red this time was a bright rose at his lapel. 

“Hello,” Seto said, unsettled by the rush of emotions that had filled him at the sight of the other. Annoyance, unease, and even pleasure. 

“Enjoying the game?” Yami’s voice was low, intended not to carry. 

“Of course not.”

Yami’s mischievous smile widened. “Good. In ten minutes I want you to meet me on the third floor, South wing, at the room on the end.”

Seto felt a strange mix of exhilaration and dread. “You can’t be serious. Not here.”

Yami only smiled again and turned around, departing into the ballroom. Seto started to follow, intent on catching up and forcing Yami to abandon this ridiculous idea, when he was accosted by Alexandra. She’d returned from the cricket field without him noticing.

“Your brother is quite skilled at badminton,” she said, sipping from a flute of champagne. “I was watching earlier.”

“Thank you,” Seto said distractedly. 

“I heard Charlotte complaining to Anne that you were quite rude to her,” Alexandra continued, catching Seto’s attention. “Though she has her heart set on winning you.”

Seto scowled at her. “I don’t care what plans she has. That girl is--”

“Vapid and conceited, I know. But, Seto, you really should be paying more attention to the eligible ladies. You’re almost twenty, dear. It’s about time to start courting and settle down, think about the future and your lineage.”

Seto felt his temper reaching its boiling point. He’d had quite about enough of everyone telling him what he should do.

“I have no interest whatsoever in any silly girl in this kingdom,” he said through clenched teeth, doing his best to keep his tone even and his voice low. 

Alexandra frowned, then smiled in what was clearly an attempt to keep things positive. “You remind me of my youngest brother. Dead set on not marrying either, he was. My sisters and I kept fixing him up, ignoring all his protests and rants, and what happened? He found himself a lovely lady of standing he loves very much and they’ve been married three years already.”

“Good for them,” Seto said coldly. “Alexandra, I could stay and hear you list the pros of finding a bride, but really, I’d rather not.”

Thinking he’d done a rather good job of keeping himself from losing his temper entirely, Seto turned and headed into the ballroom, aware that at least six minutes had passed since Yami had disappeared. Wondering how he’d managed to take his leave of the ballroom without being stopped by guards, Seto crossed the room to the entrance doors. The long, wide hallway ahead had guards stationed every dozen yards or so, right up to the doors of the grand entrance hall. As Seto hesitantly stepped into the hall, expecting to be stopped, not a single one of them gave him a second glance. 

Surprised, Seto walked down the hall to the entrance hall, from where a grand, sweeping staircase led up to the second floor of the palace. The four guards standing around the entrance hall didn’t respond to Seto’s presence as he walked up the steps, and he wondered if someone had told them to leave guests alone. The king might have opened most of the palace up to tour and as soon as he thought it, he saw a few more people he recognized from downstairs. The steps had ended on a wide landing, from which there were three enormous pairs of double doors. Ahead lay a wide hall that likely lead to the library, conversancy, and any other number of rooms. The other two doors lead to the East and West wings. Seto headed straight, along the hall. Almost immediately to the right were a flight of stairs, heading up to the third floor. 

At the top, the curving flight of stairs opened onto another hallway, so long that it had to stretch the length of the palace. Yami had said the South wing, so Seto turned and headed along the hallway to the end, where a set of double doors had to open up onto said wing. Up here there were no guards, which surprised him. 

The double doors did indeed open up onto a wing, a large and rectangular room from which there were twelve doors. On the right were four single doors that were all closed. On the left were four more single and closed doors, a pair of glass doors that opened up onto an East-facing balcony, and directly ahead were a pair of massive oak doors taking up a third of the entire wall. Walking towards that pair of doors was Yami.

“Wait, Yami, I--”

The person turned and Seto stopped dead, realizing that it wasn’t Yami at all. The stranger had the same small, lithe build and spiky, tri-colored hair, but when he turned around, Seto could see that his hair style was subtlety different, that his face was slightly less angular, and that his eyes were a bright and clear amethyst. He regarded Seto with surprise and a frown.

“My name is Yuugi,” he said. 

“I’m sorry, I--”

“You’re not supposed to be up here,” Yuugi cut in. “You’ll be quite in trouble if you’re found out.”

“I--”

“Yuugi, what’s going on?”

Another man had walked into the wing from the hall behind Seto. He was taller than Yuugi, but shorter than Seto, with a medium build and shaggy blond hair. Brown eyes narrowed slightly as he stared at Seto. His pants, vest, and jacket were a pale gray and smartly kept. Seto noticed a badge pinned to the right of the vest, but he couldn’t see from this distance what it said.

“It’s fine, Katsuya,” Yuugi said, walking back towards them. 

“Who are you?” Katsuya snapped at Seto. “What are you doing sneaking around up here?”

“I wasn’t sneaking,” Seto said irritably. “I was--”

“Get back downstairs,” Katsuya said. “Before I arrest you.”

Startled, Seto realized that the badge made Katsuya a policeman, but he wasn’t wearing a policeman’s uniform. Plainclothes meant a high rank. He didn’t look any older than Seto. 

“Now, now, Katsuya,” Yuugi said pleasantly. “Our friend here was just misguided. No need to be so mean.” He smiled at Seto, though Seto found himself not liking his smile and he wasn’t sure why. 

Realizing that he’d better leave before he drew attention to Yami and got himself more into trouble, Seto turned and headed back for the hall without another word. Katsuya stepped aside, his eyes fixed following Seto as he went, suspicion evident. Seto passed him without comment, heading back towards the stairs. He glanced back once to see Yuugi and Katsuya both just outside the doors to the South wing, facing his way, neither smiling and both watchful.

tbc...


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five:

Seto headed downstairs, still going over in his mind what had just happened. Forget Katsuya, it was Yuugi that Seto was interested in. Given his looks, he had to be a relative of Yami’s. The possibility that someone who looked like that was not blood kin of Yami’s was astronomically low. Probably a younger brother, as Yami did look a few years older than the young man Seto had just encountered. Yami hadn’t mentioned him, of course, because he hadn’t mentioned anything about himself, not even his real name. 

Yuugi had probably been up in the South wing, looking for his brother, wondering why he wasn’t downstairs with everyone else and Seto had just had the misfortune of crossing paths with him. He’d probably been at the costume party also, under disguise. The difference between his age and Yami’s wouldn’t be nearly as great as the difference between Seto’s age and Mokuba’s, so he would have been invited. 

Downstairs, Seto rejoined the party that had moved back inside. He pushed through the crowd, ignoring Charlotte’s attempt to waylay him and saw his brother talking with a pretty little girl his age in a dress edged with pink stain that she could only wear at a party. They were near a window, attempting to have some privacy in the crowded ballroom. It was only semi-privacy they got, but it was the best they could hope for; it would have been impropriety for a boy and a girl to be alone together. 

As Seto watched, Mokuba held out a glittering locket to the girl, whose face glowed as she accepted it. This was likely what Mokuba had secreted from London: a gift for his sweetheart. He must have bought it from the pocket money Seto gave him once a week. A practical part of him thought Mokuba was wasting his time giving a trinket to a little girl like that, but he supposed it was romantic in their eyes. Besides, it was Mokuba’s money.

He didn’t have to wait long before Yami came to find him. His face was tight with annoyance as he winded his way through the crowd to where Seto stood by a window a discreet distance from Mokuba and his girl, back to them.

“Why didn’t you come up?” he demanded in a low voice.

Seto was about to tell him he hadn’t been interested, just to hurt his feelings and knock some of the confidence out of him, but he instead told him the truth.

“Yuugi is not my brother, he’s my cousin. The other man, Katsuya, is his best mate.”

Seto noted that when Yami spoke, there was thinly veiled anger in his voice. This could be because he was angered that Yuugi had inadvertently interrupted their meeting or because he despised his cousin. Or both. His lips were pursed, his expression put-out and lost in thought. 

“Perhaps it was unwise to attempt this here,” he said musingly.

“Do you think so?” Seto said sarcastically.

“I shall find you later.”

Before Seto could reply, Yami disappeared into the crowd. Looking after him through a gap in the people, he saw Yuugi and Katsuya both near the royal table, talking together. Yami went right to them and said something. He was a shade taller than Yuugi and blocked his face from view. Katsuya was several inches taller and he looked down at Yami without speaking, leaving the pair of cousins to talk. Whatever was said must not have been as hostile as Seto had first suspected. Yuugi abruptly hugged Yami, patting his back like a brother. Yami returned the hug briefly and then departed. Seto remained watching the other two and as he did, Yuugi caught sight of him. He murmured something to Katsuya who had been watching after Yami. Brown eyes snapped over to Seto. Katsuya said something back and started his way while Yuugi remained at the table corner.

Not wanting to be the target of some overzealous policeman’s unwarranted interrogation, Seto slid away into the crowd. He looked back to see that Katsuya had stopped, his expression dark, but he didn’t pursue and Seto lost him in the crowd.

Not long after, everyone settled down to eat. Seto scanned the crowd as he sat between his brother and some unknown man. Mokuba’s sweetheart was with what Seto assumed were her parents a few tables away. Yami was not in sight, but a shock of surprise ran through Seto when he saw Yuugi sitting among the entourage of the King at the royal table. His parents must have been in the King’s favor.

Katsuya, Seto noticed, was not at the royal table. From where he sat, he couldn’t see him either. 

The King sat between two empty chairs. Seto knew that the one on his left had belonged to his late queen, but he didn’t know whom was missing from the right. And as he watched, the King leaned across this empty place to where Yuugi sat and asked a question. Yuugi shook his head and said something back and the King straightened up again, looking annoyed but resigned. Wondering what that was about, Seto turned back to his dinner.

From there to the end of the party, there was no incident. Yami did not show up again and Seto wondered what had become of him. Surely he wouldn’t duck out of a royal party twice. There were people all around keeping tabs on everything everyone else did and this would not go unnoticed. As petty as it was, surely someone would be beside themselves with cruel happiness to report to the King that Yami didn’t think his royal balls worth attending. If he were the head of his household, or at least eldest heir, as was possible considering he was invited to these parties like Seto was, then culling ill favor was a dangerous game, especially on top of the game he insisted on playing with Seto. 

As Seto was leaving with Mokuba, a thought occurred to him that had not occurred before.

He wondered how Yami had known the layout of the palace.

******

October became November and the chill of autumn gave way to the blistering cold of winter. Snow fell on the fourth and blanketed the landscape. Now more than ever every used room in the manor saw a blazing fire to keep the huge house warm and the cook’s repertoire of meals included more hot stews and soups, roast fowl and savory puddings. 

As the holidays approached, along with the threat of being snowed in, the elite began hosting ever more elaborate parties. An opera troupe came to London and every show soon sold out. And Seto steadfastly refused every invitation sent his way. Charlotte, who had not, after all, been entirely spurned by his cold reception of her flirting, sent him an invitation to every major event on the social calendar, all of which Seto ignored. 

Mokuba had no such reservations. He attended party after get-together all of his friends and their families threw. He even talked Seto into allowing a few at their manor, as the Kaibas were among the richest of Mokuba’s social circle. Seto noticed that the little girl he’d seen Mokuba with at the ball attended every one of the get-togethers, the locket that Mokuba had bought for her hanging around her neck. It was definitely a serious little romance. 

One day in mid-November, Seto braved the bitter cold to head into London. The reason was that Mokuba was on his first official date with his little girlfriend, whom Seto had learned was named Rose. Seto was chaperoning, having agreed with reluctance as the girl’s mother was attending to an ill sister and the father was away. Mokuba was taking his date to see the opera troupe that had gained such rapid popularity in London.

“Thanks for going with us, Seto,” Mokuba said before Rose was to show. He had put on another fine set of clothes and looked even more nervous than he had going to the party with locket in hand. 

Seto nodded, adjusting his dress shirt before putting on his jacket. He wasn’t looking forward to the evening. Aside from supervising a pair of teens on their first courtship, he hated opera. 

Rose arrived by carriage, looking pretty in a modest dress and hat. The locket gleamed prominently around her neck and she blushed bright pink when Mokuba greeted her with a bow in the front hall. Seto walked with the pair to their carriage and they headed in to London. The air was bitterly cold and fresh snow lay in every direction, the sky iron-gray, though it wasn’t currently snowing. The pair of horses slugged through the foot deep powder that lay along the road and the trip was long and cold. Seto sat across from the pair, trying to block out their awkward, inane chatter. Once in London, they disembarked and entered the opera house. A grand front hall was crowded with chattering attendees waiting for the show to begin. Seto ushered his charges past the gossipers and straight into the theater to find their seats; he’d had enough of crowds at the parties.

Sitting at Mokuba’s side, he endured the first half of the show, thoroughly glad when the intermission came around. He got up, following Mokuba and Rose along the aisle and back out into the entrance hall. Their fellow attendees were discussing the first half eagerly and Seto heard snippets of praise and panning alike. Needing to stretch his legs, Seto excused himself from his brother and Rose. Mokuba looked quite surprised. He moved a few feet from Rose with Seto and spoke in a hushed voice.

“That’s not really proper, is it?”

Seto snorted. “Mokuba, you’re out in public. Don’t worry so much about indecency among these fools. You’re not going to do anything improper, are you?”

Mokuba’s cheeks flushed. “No!”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.”

Without making a promise of returning, Seto left Mokuba and wandered around the expansive hall, squeezing between knots of other people and just generally working the kinks out of his legs from sitting still for so long. 

For the second time since he’d met him, Seto spotted Yami first. The shorter man was standing with a small group of other people, chatting, no doubt about the opera. With a smile on his face, he seemed to be arguing in a friendly fashion with one of his companions. Seto was relieved to see that none of them was either Yuugi or Katsuya. 

He hedged, torn between the desire to go over to him and his more sane rationale that it would be a bad idea. At last, however, he found him drawn inexorably over, as if he were a magnet and Yami his opposite polarity, which was a rather fitting comparison. 

“Enjoying the opera?”

Yami looked up and the smile he gave was bright. “Hello again. I wouldn’t have expected you here.”

“I’m attending it with Mokuba,” Seto said, deliberately omitting his role as chaperone so that no one here would launch into a lecture about impropriety. “He’s back in the theater.”

“Ah.”

“We’ll see you inside?” one of Yami’s companions asked, glancing between him and Seto. 

“Yes, though forgive me if I’m late. We’ve business to discuss.”

Looking surprised, curious, but being too polite to ask, the group moved away, towards the theater. Before long, the intermission would be over, but neither Yami nor Seto made a move to follow. The entrance hall was emptying, slowly, though there were still several stragglers, so their lingering wasn’t odd.

“I was hoping to see you again,” Yami said softly. 

“You still need your hat back.”

Yami smiled in delight. “Yes, I do.”

His scarlet eyes slid past Seto and his expression grew mischievous. Seto glanced over his shoulder, noting that the last of their fellows in the entrance hall were heading into the theater. The same mix of dread and anticipation flooded Seto as he turned back to Yami. Sure enough, the other was sneaking down a hallway, beckoning to him. Seto followed after him, glancing back again to make sure no one saw them. The attendants in the theater had shut the doors from the inside, leaving the entrance hall of the opera house as empty as an abandoned house. 

With a soft, wicked chuckle that made Seto’s heart skip a beat, Yami led him upstairs. Seto knew this was the hallway that lead to the private viewing boxes in the balconies around the theater. Through the curtains, he could hear the singing resuming. 

“Where are you going?” Seto hissed.

An attendant was walking towards them down the hallway. 

“Back to my private box,” Yami said innocently.

The attendant smiled and stood smartly to the side to allow them to pass, though the hallway was wide enough to walk three abreast. 

Stopping at one of the pairs of blue velvet curtains, Yami pulled one half aside, looking at Seto expectantly. So as not to appear suspicious to the two other opera house attendants in the hallway near, Seto slid into the private box, Yami behind him. It was a small, square space about six by eight feet, overlooking the stage. Two rows of three seats sat empty. Clearly, this was not Yami’s private box, but an unused one.

Two lamps on either wall lit the space softly, though from the main seating down below, no one would be able to see up here unless a person stood right at the railing. The box was directly across the theater hall from the stage, and therefore not an ideal one due to the distance from the show, which was probably why it was empty. It also served the purpose of the occupants not being seen; the other boxes along the balconies had counterparts directly across from them, but this one, by its angle, was half hidden from view. Yami must have frequented this opera house to have chosen this box so quickly.

“We really shouldn’t--”

“Shh.”

Boldly, Yami turned down the wicks on the two oil lamps, darkening the box further. In the semi-gloom, Seto watched his outline approach. But Yami merely sat down in the middle seat of the back row. He looked up at Seto and patted the arm of the seat next to him. Against his better judgment, Seto joined him.

“You really should enjoy the show,” Yami murmured. “It’s good to be exposed to culture.”

Seto opened his mouth to retort and Yami chose that moment to reach up, cup the back of his head, and pull him down for a kiss. The instant their lips met, a shock of pleasure raced up Seto’s spine. He reached up, threading his fingers through Yami’s hair and returned the kiss. Both of their hats fell off, but they paid them no attention, too caught up in their kiss. Seto breathed in the pleasant spicy scent of his strange companion, tasted his lips, felt his fingers intertwining through his hair. Yami’s other hand came up to his arm, his mouth moving lightly over Seto’s, the kiss soft and unhurried. At last they parted for air, their mingling breaths unsteady. Seto could barely see Yami’s face, but he watched his gloom-darkened eyes tracing his own face.

“What exactly do you think we’re going to do, here in this box?” Seto demanded unsteadily.

“That remains to be seen,” Yami responded, and pulled Seto into another kiss.

This one was just as thorough and slow as the last one, Yami seeming not the least bit in a hurry, as he hadn’t been in the music room. The threat of exposure didn’t concern or excite him, it didn’t register. That confidence was foolhardy and intoxicating.

The second kiss ended, Seto shifted slightly, sliding his fingers from Yami’s hair and tracing down the side of his face. Yami turned his face into the caress, eyes closed, and even in the poor light Seto could see the faint smile on his face. He was entirely in the moment, and enjoying every second.

Seto initiated the third kiss, and Yami moaned softly in appreciation. Seto pressed his lips harder to his, trying to smother his voice, heart knocking in fear of being caught. But that fear was soon drowned in the sea of rising lust and he found himself dropping his hands to Yami’s body, feeling along his sides through his clothes. He was small and lithe. 

Yami gasped softly and arched into him as best as the armrest would allow. Seto slid one arm around him, pulling him against him as much as possible, ignoring the armrest in his gut. His other hand dropped down and landed itself on Yami’s outermost leg. Another soft gasp of surprise was his reward. 

Kiss broken, Seto caught his breath, watching Yami’s face as he ran his hand along his back before beginning to slide the other one up his leg. Yami held his gaze intently and he seemed to be searching his eyes, though for what, Seto didn’t know. 

Caution was thrown to the wind. Seto moved both hands to the front of Yami’s pants, making the other twitch and suck in a breath.

“What--?”

“Shh,” Seto said audaciously, glad to finally have the other at a disadvantage.

He undid the fastenings to his pants, then reached up with one hand and caught his chin, pulling him into another kiss. Closing his eyes, he moved his other hand by feel, sliding inside Yami’s pants. He smothered another sharp noise from Yami, though he had to swallow his own moan at the feeling of the hard flesh hidden within. Groping gently, Seto slid his hand down his underwear and wrapped his fingers around his erection. Yami jerked against him, the hands on his shoulders briefly digging in.

Seto began to stroke gently, the insanity of what he was doing barely registering. He broke the kiss to breathe and listened to Yami’s rapid, quiet breathing. Clinging to his shoulders, cheek against his collarbone, Yami’s ragged panting accelerated as Seto tightened his fingers and stroked faster. A soft grunt of pleasure reached his ears. Seto nudged Yami to tilt his head with his chin and briefly mouthed his earlobe before gliding his lips down to his throat above the high collar of his shirt. 

The hands at his shoulders let go and instead Yami locked his arms around his neck. His shuddery gasps sent jolts of arousal straight to Seto’s groin, but he ignored it, continuing to stroke rapidly, still rational enough to not want to take too long, but still wanting to pleasure Yami thoroughly. He was sure he saw the unmistakable signs of impending release and he persisted, kissing the other’s cheek. He noted the degree of warmth of the flesh below his lips and smiled against the smooth curve. Pulling his head back just slightly, he viewed Yami’s face, seeing that his eyes were closed, brow furrowed, and lips parted. Watching his face, Seto tightened his fingers still further on the pulsing erection.

Yami’s shaky breathing was punctuated with little gasps and moans. He was trying to be quiet, but couldn’t seem to stop himself. Seto used his free hand to cover his mouth, feeling his breath puffing against his fingers through his nose. He saw Yami open his eyes, large and dark over his hand. 

“Need to keep you quiet,” he murmured. 

Seto felt him shudder and he smirked as Yami whimpered beneath his hand. He pushed a little, tilting Yami’s head back against the seat. Seto wished he could see him more clearly. There was just enough illumination for him to see his eyes staring up at him. Seto loomed over him predatorily as he smothered his voice, hand over his mouth, and watched his face, stroking and rubbing him firmly. Yami’s legs pushed against the floor of the box and he shoved himself further back into his chair as if he were trying to escape. He had nowhere to go.

Seto felt Yami’s fingers clutching at his coat, the arms around his neck tensing. Felt the erection in his grip hardening still further, swelling. Yami’s face scrunched up, eyes closing. Seto stroked faster, relishing the muffled whine Yami made when Seto rubbed the pad of his thumb over the sensitive head of his cock. 

He wanted to do a lot more. All too clearly he could picture the crazy impulse to throw Yami over the balcony railing, yank his pants down, and make him scream for everyone to hear. How would he like that reckless behavior?

As if he’d heard Seto’s thoughts, Yami writhed in his seat. The vibrations of his final moan tingled against Seto’s palm, accompanied by the liquid warmth spilling against his other fingers. Yami’s back arched, pressing his body hard against Seto’s. 

At length he relaxed, slumping against the chair back. Seto slowly removed his hand from his mouth and fished in his coat pocket for his handkerchief. As Yami panted in the seat next to him, he cleaned them up. Down on the stage, the opera was still going on and he doubted their interlude had taken as much time as it had seemed. 

Stuffing his folded up handkerchief back into his coat pocket, Seto stood up. In the semi-darkness, he saw Yami look up at him, recovering and finally silent. Seto smirked and then bent down, brushing his lips against his damp forehead impulsively.

“I don’t think you’re ever going to get end up with your hat back.”

tbc...

A/N: As always, reviews would be appreciated.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six:

Seto left Yami in the private box and headed back to the ground level. He didn’t think it rude to leave him. Besides being prudent so as to not push their luck even further, Yami always disappeared after their previous encounters.

From the top box Seto made his way back down the hall and stairs to the double doors that led into the theater. He pulled one open and went inside, ignoring the affronted looks of attendants who were quite hasty in pulling the door shut again behind him. It was breach of polite etiquette to enter a performance in session but he went ahead and walked down the aisle to his row fifth from front. Thankfully his seat was on the aisle, and he slid into it. Mokuba and Rose both looked at him in surprise but he could tell his interlude with Yami, as satisfying as it had been, had taken only ten, fifteen minutes. 

“Where have you been?” Mokuba hissed.

“Looking around,” Seto hissed back, which was an un-lie. He’d seen a lot of the opera house trailing after Yami.

Mokuba gave him an incredulous look but thankfully turned back to the opera. At long last it ended and he was able to get up again. Exiting with Mokuba and Rose, he spotted Yami, rejoined with his group, getting into what may have been the same fancy black carriage from the book shop. Yami didn’t see him and Seto climbed into his own carriage with the two teenagers.

On the way home, Mokuba and Rose talked in length about the opera while Seto sat in silence, his thoughts on Yami and their increasingly passionate trysts. Such a romance, if that was what it was, was very dangerous, which was surely what attracted Yami to it. The fact he didn’t know Seto from Adam, or if indeed whether he would take the opportunity to strangle him when they were alone, seemed to thrill him to no end. And Seto realized, at least to a lesser degree, the dangerous anonymity was rather exhilarating to him as well. Yami was unlike anyone he’d ever met. Disdainful of society’s restrictions, certain of what he wanted, and unafraid to go for it. 

Rose was picked up by her carriage almost as soon as they arrived back to the Kaiba property and Mokuba disappeared up the stairs, looking very happy. Seto went to his own rooms and went to the closet. On the top shelf was the black hat with the red band. He took it down from the shelf and turned it around in his hands. He wondered when the next time he would see its owner. They seemed to be averaging more than a month in between.

Seto put the hat back and closed the closet door. He went downstairs for supper where, when he joined him, Mokuba was still happily peaceful. Seto was sure he’d be seeing more of Rose.

******

A few days after the opera, Seto received a message from the king. He was in the library reading when Mokuba came in, bearing the letter he’d gotten from the king’s messenger. Seto took it from him and used a letter opener to slit it open, smoothing out the heavy piece of paper before reading the succinct letter. It stated nothing more than the king wished their presence in two days’ time. 

“Why would he want to see us?” Mokuba asked worriedly.

“Who knows.” Seto folded the letter and put it back into the opened envelope. “But we have no choice but to go.”

So two days from that time saw them back in the carriage, taking the long, freezing journey to the palace. Here at the end of November, the world was blanketed in ever deeper snow, the air so cold that the layers they were wearing doing little more than stopping them from freezing to death. Even Seto couldn’t stop from shivering and he hoped that whatever business the king had with them was worth the trip. 

At last they made it to the castle, which looked spectacular frosted with ice and snow, its many windows blazing like jewels. They were escorted inside and led all the way through the many halls to the king’s private reception room. 

“The king wishes to talk with you only,” the guard said to Seto. “Your brother can tour the palace with Lady Helen until supper.”

Lady Helen was waiting. She was a pretty woman in her thirties, wearing a burgundy dress with understated jewelry. She smiled at Mokuba, who smiled back nervously and then looked up at Seto before walking away with the Lady, who immediately began talking to him about various features of the palace. Her voice was very pleasant. Seto remained by the door to the reception room with the guard, though he didn’t have to wait long.

“Ah, Seto, there you are.”

Seto turned around in surprise at the sound of his given name, as if he and the king were good friends who hadn’t seen each other in a little while. King Aknamkanon was walking down the hall towards them, following with a small entourage of soldiers and attendants. At the reception room, he waved them away and led Seto into the comfortable room done in scarlet and gold. 

“Please make yourself comfortable,” the king said, sitting down himself in an armchair in front of the window. Seto sat down across from him. 

“I was sorry to hear of your father’s death,” the king went on. “I knew of it not long after, but I’m afraid I’ve been quite busy. I’m sorry I couldn’t extend my condolences before now, even when you were at the ball.”

Seto hadn’t been expecting this. “It’s fine, Your Majesty,” he said awkwardly.

“He and I used to be mates. Did you know this?”

Seto nodded. He didn’t understand why the king had chosen now to meet with him, when they had never done so before. The king nodded as well, looking off into space as he continued speaking.

“I grew up with him. We were best mates until he left as soon as we came of age. I wanted to go with him, but of course the duties of being king could not be ignored. And when he came back, he met your mother and we grew even further apart. I regret that now.”

Seto said nothing. The king raised his eyes and looked Seto in the face. 

“And now you’re taking care of everything by yourself. I respect that. I wanted to let you know that if you ever needed anything to come to me.”

Seto shifted slightly. “Thank you, Your Highness, but--”

“I know,” the king interrupted. “If there’s one thing about my old friend I can see in his son it would be his stubbornness. I just wanted you to know that the invitation remains.”

“Thank you.”

“And I hope you and your brother will stay to supper before you go.”

Seto nodded reluctantly. “Yes, thank you, Your Majesty.”

King Aknamkanon smiled and then wanted to know how Mokuba was doing. Seto spent an uncomfortable hour chatting with the king about various subjects until an attendant apologetically interrupted to let them know that supper was ready. The king got to his feet and Seto followed, walking out with him from the reception room to the grand dining hall, accompanied by guards and attendants the whole way. Mokuba was already there, still being entertained by Lady Helen. Both of them got to their feet and greeted the king with a curtsy and a bow. 

Seto started to join them when the king spoke.

“Ah, there’s my son, finally.”

There was no mistaking the mix of affection and resigned annoyance in his voice and Seto looked over. He nearly choked on nothing but air. The person the king had just put his arm warmly around was none other than Yami. 

Seto felt as if his feet had become one with the flagged marble floor as the king steered Yami over to him, oblivious to his guest’s shock. Yami surveyed Seto with a closed, unreadable expression, his father’s arm still around his shoulders.

“Seto, have you met my son, Crown Prince Atemu?” King Aknamkanon asked. “He’s decided to grace us with his presence today.”

Yami ignored the pointed barb and stepped forward, holding out his hand. His face was blank, giving nothing away. “Nice to see you,” he said calmly.

Seto managed to get his brain into gear. He reached forward and shook Yami’s--Atemu’s--hand as if he’d never met him before today, though Atemu didn’t pretend they hadn’t.

“I’ve met Seto before, Father,” he said. “We happen to occasionally frequent the same places.”

A flash of mischief flickered through his eyes before the calculated mask of polite detachment returned. He dropped Seto’s hand and for a moment there was a brief flash of something else that almost looked like disappointment. Perhaps because his game of secrecy was over and he knew Seto’s name and Seto knew his. One thing Seto did notice was that he didn’t look the least bit ashamed or afraid, both of which Seto felt quite strongly he should be experiencing at the moment, because part of him wanted to shake the other senseless. The crown prince? He’d been fooling around with the crown prince of England?

“Well, now that you’re here, let’s sit down to eat,” Aknamkanon said. “Seto and Mokuba have been invited to supper, so let’s not be rude and let them go hungry.”

Mokuba found himself the target of the king’s queries once they had sat down and been served, being asked largely the same questions Seto had been, and answering them with a perpetual nervous air that he nevertheless overcame and was able to carry on a conversation. Seto kept sneaking glances at Atemu, but the prince ignored him completely, as if he were not there, as if his simple, little secret had not just been given away.

In retrospect, Seto was disgusted with himself for not guessing sooner. Atemu had clearly been just as rich and educated as Seto was, but Seto hadn’t remembered ever meeting him in school or at parties before. He had known the layout of the palace so well that it was clear he had been there before and he had gotten away with ducking out of official parties because he was the king’s son and granted liberties others wouldn’t dream of. And most of all, now that he saw them side-by-side, Seto could see just how closely they resembled each other. The king’s eyes were brown and Atemu’s brightest scarlet, but their facial features were clearly those of father and son. How he had missed it before was beyond him and he could have kicked himself for such a folly.

What to do now? What was Atemu thinking now, now that the game was up? Would he distance himself from Seto now that the mystery was over? It would be the best thing, of course. This was playing with fire, having any sort of untoward contact with the prince. It had been risky enough when he’d thought him just another nobleman’s son.

So why did the idea sadden him? 

When dinner was over, the king disappeared on some business or other, and Lady Helen, who seemed taken with Mokuba like a woman fond of a young boy she wished was her son, invited him to play chess with her. Though it was getting late, and cold, Seto didn’t protest and the pair set up a board in one of the many large sitting rooms before a grand fire. 

Lady Helen was a master chess player. She beat Mokuba soundly in four games and laughed so gaily every time she did it that Mokuba didn’t look the least bit upset. Seto watched them play and before he knew it, the grandfather clock, little brother to the one in the ball room, was chiming ten o’clock.

“Oh, dear!” Lady Helen exclaimed, looking up at the clock face. Dismayed, she looked out of the large window closest to her. “It’s so late, and so dark! I hope you aren’t planning on journeying home at such a dreadful hour!”

It wasn’t really that late, but it was very dark. The world beyond the window could barely be seen save from the ambient glow cast off by the glittering mounds of snow. Lady Helen looked distraught.

“Please, you can’t try to go home now! It’ll be unthinkably late before you ever get home.”

This was true, as the Kaiba brothers lived hours from the palace, a trip that would take even longer in the dark. There was deepening snow to think about, bitter cold, patches of ice, perhaps even wolves. Lady Helen got to her feet.

“You should stay here,” she said. “The king won’t mind a bit and there is plenty of room. I’m just sorry I kept you so long.”

Seto did not want to stay in the palace, as now that his attention wasn’t caught up with the chess game, it had wandered back to Atemu. Still, there would be no good reason at all to attempt going home in such bad conditions. A horse could misstep easily and break a leg, leaving them stranded in the cold. So with great reluctance Seto accepted the king’s invitation to stay on, being shown to some private rooms on the second floor, East wing, that stood empty for guests. The rooms were lit with fires and spare night clothes were laid out that fit reasonably well. Once the rooms had been warmed enough for their occupants to stay in, Mokuba bid Seto a sleepy goodnight and retired to his room across the hall. Seto closed the door to his own and sat down in an armchair, gazing into the fire blazing merrily in the fireplace. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear the knocking on his door that had no doubt continued for several seconds. Before he could answer, the door opened and Atemu slipped inside.

Seto shot to his feet, startled. Atemu shut the door softly and turned around. He was wearing a dressing gown over his night clothes, head bare, revealing his spiky hair once again.

“What are you doing here?” Seto hissed, heart thudding. Atemu was so careless.

“I’ve come to see you,” Atemu said in a way that clearly stated he thought Seto was being dense. “We should talk.”

He got close and Seto grabbed his shoulders, hissing in his face. “Are you mental? You’re the prince?! When exactly were you going to tell me this?”

Atemu frowned a little. “I was thinking never, actually. Not knowing who you were was so much more fun.”

Seto stared at him for several seconds. He had to restrain himself once again from shaking Atemu like a doll. Instead, he let go of him and turned his back, pacing up and down in front of the fire. 

“You’re crazy,” he said finally. “Are you trying to get me thrown in gaol?”

Atemu frowned again. “That wouldn’t happen if you learned how to act. Luckily Father was much more interested in subtly telling me off than paying attention to the slack-jawed expression you had.”

Seto stared at him some more. Atemu sighed, more interested in his own concerns than Seto’s.

“I was hoping I could go on not telling you who I was for quite a bit longer than this,” he said. He shrugged. “But at least now I can get my hat.”

“Your…hat?” Seto said in a strangled voice. How could he even be thinking about that stupid thing?

“Yes, of course,” Atemu said. “In the meantime, I’m trying to decide if knowing your name ruins the whole game.”

“You can’t seriously expect that we’ll continue--”

“I’ve decided it doesn’t,” Atemu interrupted, as if he hadn’t heard Seto at all. “These past weeks with you have been some of the most thrilling of my life and I’d be a fool to quit.”

“You--”

Atemu stepped into him and wrapped his arms around his neck, standing right up on tiptoe and sealing their mouths together.

tbc...


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven:

Seto stiffened as Atemu grabbed his head and kissed him, as if nothing at all had happened that day. His tongue caressed Seto’s bottom lip intimately and his body pressed against Seto’s hard. And despite his anger with him, Seto couldn’t deny the buzz of pleasure that raced up his spine at the sudden contact. Nevertheless, he reached up and grabbed Atemu’s shoulders, pushing him forcibly back at arm’s length.

“You must be joking,” he said coldly. “Do you think knowing you’re the prince changes nothing?”

Atemu scowled. “This is why I didn’t want you to know.” He sighed heavily and looked disappointed. “Very well. I bid you good night.”

He turned away and headed across the room to the door. Without looking back, he opened it.

Seto crossed the room and grabbed his arm. Atemu stopped, turning around as Seto pulled on his arm. The smile on his face was infuriating and Seto pushed him back hard against the door, shutting it at the same time. He stood over him, hand still gripping his arm, the other hand resting on the door he’d shut. Atemu looked up at him expectantly. 

Seto bent his head down and Atemu pulled his arm from his grip, wrapping both around his neck. Their mouths met and Seto closed his eyes, winding his arms around Atemu’s waist, pulling him up against him. Atemu moaned, then lightly pushed against him. Seto allowed him to walk him backwards, sitting down slowly on the edge. Atemu climbed into his lap without hesitation, his legs wrapped around Seto’s hips, heels against the bed. They had not even broken the kiss, which was becoming rapidly more heated. Atemu parted his lips and Seto took the opportunity to push his tongue inside. He moved his hands around to Atemu’s front, then pushed them in under the dressing gown, then under his nightshirt. His skin was so warm, so smooth.

Seto broke the kiss to breathe. Atemu looked down at him, his eyes heavy-lidded, cheeks beginning to turn pink. Seto reached up, sliding one hand gently into his hair, pulling him in for another kiss. Atemu moaned again, his hands coming up to push Seto’s dressing gown off his shoulders. Seto lowered his arms so that Atemu could finish pushing it down, taking it off his wrists and leaving it on the bed. 

He reached up to do the same to Atemu, sliding his hands down his arms, leaning in to kiss the juncture of neck and shoulder, visible beneath the loose collar of his nightshirt. Seto bit lightly at his shoulder, his hands down around Atemu’s wrists, lightly imprisoning them behind his back. Atemu arched closer to him, head turned to the side, a soft sound leaving his throat. Seto slid his mouth up his neck, nipped at the edge of his jaw, then slid his mouth back down his neck as Atemu tilted his head back, face to the ceiling. Seto kissed his collarbone, then reluctantly released his wrists to push his hands under his shirt and lift it up. Atemu raised his arms and allowed Seto to take it off. He dropped his arms and watched Seto as he looked him over.

The prince was pale and slender and leanly muscled. Seto raised his eyes to his, then leaned up for another kiss. He gently pulled Atemu off him, rolling him onto the bed, leaning over him to continue the kiss. He started down his chest, experimentally licking a nipple. Atemu arched and shivered, head turned to the side, eyes closed. The front of his night pants were tenting and Seto was no better off. 

He sat up to look down at Atemu, who turned his head and opened his eyes to look back up at him. He reached out and cupped Seto’s cheek, pushing himself up to kiss him. Seto opened his mouth and kissed him back, reaching out to run his hand down his side to his hip, to the waistband of his sleep pants. Atemu’s hand fisted in the front of his night shirt, his tongue curling around Seto’s. He slowly lay back down, drawing Seto down with him.   
  
A knock at the door made them both jump. Seto pulled away from Atemu, sitting up, looking towards the door. Atemu sat up as well, reaching for his night shirt and robe.   
  
“Who is that?” Seto hissed under his breath.   
  
“How should I know?” Atemu retorted. For the first time, he looked worried.   
  
Another knock came to the door, slightly louder than the previous one. Seto stood and grabbed his own robe, pulling it on over his clothes. Atemu hurried over to the closet, sliding into it without a word. After checking to make sure that he was out of sight, Seto cinched his dressing gown shut and headed towards the door.   
  
“I’m coming,” he snapped as another knock sounded. Brushing his hand through his hair so that it would look even more sleep-tousled, well aware of his condition and hoping the robe hid enough, he reached out and yanked the door open. “This had better be—“   
  
Yuugi lowered the hand that was raised for another knock. “Hello, Kaiba,” he said. “I came to apologize, but now it seems I must apologize for two things instead of just one. I didn’t mean to wake you.”   
  
At a loss at this sudden appearance, well aware that Yuugi’s royal cousin was shut inside his closet, Seth frowned down at the smaller man. “Apologize for what?”   
  
“Why, how Katsuya and I acted towards you the other day,” Yuugi said. “It was rude of us. I would have apologized earlier, but I didn’t have a chance to talk to you. I took supper in my quarters and didn’t realize that you were here until a servant told me.”   
  
It was true that he hadn’t been at the table with them. Seto nodded, hoping that Yuugi had satisfied himself in apologizing and would soon go.   
  
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he said. “I shouldn’t have been wandering around on my own. Please accept *my* apology.”   
  
“Done.” Yuugi smiled. As before, Seto didn’t like his smile and he didn’t know why. It looked pleasant enough. His violet eyes fairly sparkled with good humor. “Well, I shouldn’t be even ruder and keep you from sleep. I hope the room is to your liking?”   
  
His eyes flickered past Seto briefly at the room as if searching for something Seto didn’t like about it.   
  
Seto nodded quickly, resisting the guilty urge to block his view. “It’s fine, thank you.”   
  
“Good.” Yuugi’s eyes returned to his and he smiled again. “Well, good night, then, Kaiba.” 

“Good night.”

Yuugi turned and headed down the hallway. Seto wanted to watch him out of sight, but he instead shut the door, so Yuugi wouldn’t catch him watching. Looking the door, he turned to the closet. Atemu was peering out, once again wearing his shirt and robe. He slipped out, frowning.

“Why was my cousin here?” he asked. He must have heard Yuugi’s voice.

“Apologizing to me.”

“For what?”

“For Katsuya threatening to arrest me on All Hallows’ Eve.”

Atemu’s frown deepened. “But that was so long ago. Why is he apologizing now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it was a ruse. Maybe he saw you sneak out and followed you.”

If that was the case, then they could be in deep trouble. 

However, Atemu shook his head. “Impossible. Our quarters are in different wings and I was very careful. More likely he was checking up on you. He saw you walking around unescorted in the palace on All Hallows’ and now you are here again. Perhaps he suspects you.”

Seto hoped so. It would be much better for Yuugi to think he might be a thief than to think he had an untoward contact with the prince. They were pushing their luck as it was.

“You’d better go.”

Atemu looked surprised. “What? But I just told you, he can’t suspect anything.”

“You don’t know that for sure. And even if he didn’t, think rationally for once.”

Atemu’s red eyes narrowed. Seto was aware that he was insulting the crown prince. Nevertheless, he stared back at him steadily. Finally Atemu sniffed. 

“Very well.”

He turned and stalked across the room. Seto watched him open the door and he wanted to stop him like he had before, to press him against the mattress and explore this thing between them fully. Instead, he watched Atemu leave the room and shut the door. The sound seemed ominously final.

******

The next morning, Seto and Mokuba breakfasted in the great dining hall. The only person to dine with them was Lady Helen, who definitely seemed taken with Mokuba, like an older woman wishing she had a son. None of the royal family showed up. The king would be too busy and Atemu was likely unwilling to see Seto. But where was Yuugi?

After breakfast, Seto and Mokuba climbed into their carriage to head home. Bundled against the cold, Seto peered out the window, watching the palace disappear into the distance. Framed against the iron-grey sky, snow drifting down, lights gleaming in the many windows, the palace was a Christmas card photo in real life. 

Seto wondered what the prince was doing at the moment.

He leaned back against his seat and sighed. 

“What’s wrong, Seto?” Mokuba asked.

“Just looking forward to the long, cold ride home,” Seto grumbled.

Mokuba smiled. “Well, don’t be too down, Seto. It’s nearly Christmas!”

Seto frowned. That was true, it was. And this time of year saw everyone in the higher social circles trying to outdo everyone else in their grand Christmas parties. Everything else was merely practice up until this point. And the social bickering was worse than ever. Those who had parties took great offense at declined invitations. No other time in the whole year saw more changes in alliances than the time of good will toward men. 

“In fact,” Mokuba continued shyly, “Rose already invited me to her party.”

Seto turned his attention to his brother, who blushed and pulled something out of his coat pocket. It was a small rectangular card, embossed with mother-of-pearl letters spelling out Rose Kensington, and an embossed namesake blossom that was a delicate pink. The card looked a lot like the cards grown ladies gave to gentlemen suitors they were interested in. 

“She asked me the last time I saw her,” Mokuba said. “Her mother is already planning.”

Seto rolled his eyes. Mokuba gave him a few seconds, then prodded. “So, can I go?”

“Sure. You’re pretty serious with this girl.” The constant parties, the locket, and now the card.

Mokuba flushed again and nodded. “Yeah. We like each other. If you like each other, well, you should be together, right?”

Seto looked out the window again and frowned. “Yeah. I guess.”

And of course he was thinking of Atemu.

******

A few days later, Seto glanced up from his reading at the polite address from his head maid. It was barely two o’clock in the afternoon; Mokuba was away at boarding school, his last week before the Christmas holidays, and the evening staff had not yet arrived for preparing dinner and turning down the bedrooms. 

“You have a visitor, sir, “Mrs. Galley said, bowing respectfully. “I’ve shown him to the parlor.”

Seto closed his book and got to his feet. Mrs. Galley bustled off to the kitchen while Seto headed to the front parlor. His guest was standing near and armoire, quite rudely holding a photograph and studying it. 

Even from the back Seto recognized the small form of Prince Atemu. He stopped in the doorway in shock and Atemu didn’t seem to notice his presence. He was holding the picture of the Kaiba family the summer after Mokuba was born. Their mother had been seated with their father standing behind her chair and she had been holding Mokuba in her arms. Seto had been standing on her other side.

For some reason, seeing Atemu holding the picture of his family made him angry. That was private and no one, not even the prince, had the right to mess with it. But just as he was opening his mouth to say something, Atemu turned slightly. In profile, Atemu was still looking at the picture and his face was contemplative, even sad. As Seto watched, Atemu set the picture down carefully, then seemed to realize he was there. He turned to face him, speaking as if he were expected. And he didn’t act the least bit abashed having been caught being nosy.

“Ah, there you are.”

“What are you doing here?”

Atemu walked over. His expression was now closed. “I came to finally get my hat.”

Seto blinked and Atemu just stared at him for a long time. His expression didn’t change. Seto finally jerked his head. 

“Come on. I’ll get it.”

Seto turned and headed down the hall to the back stairs. The prince followed after him and Seto knew he was looking around as they went. He wondered how his family’s manor compared in the prince’s eyes to the castle he was used to, though he didn’t know why he cared. 

Seto led Atemu to his room, walking across to the closet. He threw open the doors and there was the hat, sitting on the shelf, rather dusty. Seto didn’t bother to attempt cleaning off the dust; he just shoved it at Atemu. “There.”

Atemu took the hat, but didn’t so much as look at it. Instead, he was staring at Seto, his expression still guarded, but eyes fiery. Seto frowned, gesturing. 

“You got the hat you wanted so bad.”

“Yes.”

Seto grunted and looked away. He couldn’t take the intense stare of those red eyes. He couldn’t deny the heat in them, and he knew that Atemu was still furious with Seto for turning him down, for not having courage to play his game. But Seto had other things to think about than what the prince wanted. Mokuba, his liberty, his property, his family’s legacy. 

Although it wasn’t only the prince who wanted it.

“You got the hat,” he repeated finally.

Atemu sighed heavily. He sounded like he was disappointed in Seto. “Mind showing me to the door?”

Seto gestured towards the door for Atemu to precede him. Atemu turned and headed from the room, Seto following after him. He walked with him through the halls down to the front door. Parked just outside of the gates was the familiar black carriage with the four bay horses. Atemu turned on the stoop, looking up at him. His eyes were still cold, but then he smiled.

“Thanks for keeping it safe for me.”

Seto watched as he turned and headed down the walk. No more snow had fallen since the groundskeepers had shoveled the long walk to the front gates, though a few fat flakes fell now. Atemu’s black-clad form stood out starkly against the white, clearly visible all the way to the gates. Atemu climbed up into the carriage as the attendant held the door open; Seto noticed that neither the attendant nor the driver holding the horses’ reins were James or the nervous man. Smart, to keep those who had seen Atemu with Seto at the pub from seeing him visiting Seto at home, even if he’d only been there long enough to collect his hat.

The carriage door was closed and the attendant pulled himself up to sit next to the driver, who flicked the reins. The four horses started walking, turning around to head back to the lane. Seto stood and watched the black carriage grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared into the thick trees of the forest.

tbc...


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: 

As Christmas drew nearer, Seto found himself besieged by invitations to parties. People he had never even met invited him warmly to their Christmas Eve gatherings as if they were old friends. Charlotte and Alexandra both insisted he come to theirs. He even received an invitation for a voluntary attendance to the palace’s Yuletide Ball. Charlotte’s and Alexandra’s he dismissed immediately, but he actually hesitated on the one from the palace. Not because he had anymore interest in such frivolities than he ever had, but he had to admit he did wonder if Atemu would attend. Try as he might, he couldn’t get the flirtatious prince out of his mind. Logically, he knew it was still a fallacy, a mistake, that Atemu was merely spoiled and bored, using charms he knew he had to have a thrill, but nevertheless…

If he did go, give in to his desires, there was still a problem. He had snubbed the prince and that sort of thing was not easily forgiven. He might go and be snubbed in return. And besides, was it really worth it, success or not? A dangerous, inappropriate dalliance with the prince was surely more trouble than it was worth.

One thing he was sure of, Atemu would not come to him again. He’d collected his hat a sign of that; otherwise it would probably have languished in Seto’s closet until Atemu’s interest waned. If anything were going to happen now, it would have to be Seto who did the pursuing.

Seto’s mouth twisted at that thought. As if he were courting the prince, as if anything about it was normal! Or likely to be long term.

That was part of his hang-up, he realized. Atemu was a flirt and a playboy. Seto wasn’t interested in being his toy. He wasn’t worried about his feelings, he’d known from the outset their positions, but accepting it and making it easier to be used, that was another matter.

Perhaps the best option would be to see where they currently stood. If he went to see Atemu and was dismissed, then it was over and he could put it behind him and move on.

If Atemu was more receptive, then he could decide how he felt.

So Seto sent word that he’d accepted and went about his business until the day arrived.

******

For the party, Seto chose a pale grey suit with a blue tie and a hat with a matching blue band. The colors complemented his eyes and the cut of the suit was good to his shape, though he told himself neither was an effort to impress Atemu.

Mokuba was already on his way to his little girlfriend’s party, riding in the estate’s second coach. The main one was ready for Seto when he stepped out into the blistering cold, fastening the last of the buttons on his coat. 

“Right cold it is,” the driver said when he was in earshot. “All them fancy parties seem only in the coldest months to drive.”

“For which you’re well paid,” Seto said acidly.

The driver hastily backtracked. “Of course, sir. Warn’t complaining none. Right glad fer the job, sir.”

Dismissing the attempt at defending himself, Seto climbed into the coach and the driver shut the door, climbing into the driver’s seat and gathering up the reins, starting the horses on the long journey to the palace. As the carriage wound its way through the snow-frosted trees, plowing through several inches of snow, Seto considered his approach. He should look at it as an acquisition, like a game. Atemu was a player, and should be treated equally. Nevertheless, care still had to be exercised. He didn’t know Atemu, not really. Fate had already been tested, along with Atemu’s tolerance, by throwing him out of the bedroom. Pushed too far by station being ignored, he might decide to make Seto wish they’d never met.

The palace was a sight. Still bedecked by winter’s cold, white splendor, color was added by the application of wreaths, garlands, bows, and bells that set up a pretty music in the face of the wind. Seto disembarked beneath a green garland threaded with gold and silver streamers and hung with four clusters of tinkling bells. He followed the well-cleared front walk lined with festive torches and into the palace. The ballroom was as festively decorated as on any of the other holidays, but with greater exuberance. The walls were lined with more garlands-and-bells, every corner featured a tree done up in silver and white, smaller compatriots of a grand tree behind the royal done in red, gold, and blue. The chandeliers were hunt with holly berries and tiny silver bells and each of the three entrances were laden with clumps of mistletoe. Every table had centerpieces of poinsettia and holly.

The ladies in the room wore their finest gowns in silver, gold, buff, and wintery green, with diamonds, pearls, opals, and emeralds lending glitter. The men wore traditional suits, but most had poinsettia or white roses in their lapels.

A glance told him neither Alexandra nor Charlotte were in attendance. They’d had their own functions. In fact, the crowd at the palace was the smallest yet.

That same sweep of the room told him Atemu was not there as well. Seto was not surprised. They held a mutual dislike of the fake, social elite. But was he somewhere else?

That same sweep of the crowd also gave him a third, even less welcome, observation—Yuugi and Katsuya were there. In thinking about his approach to Atemu, he’d forgotten all about them. It was too late to leave as Katsuya had spotted him almost at the same instant. Leaving Yuugi chatting with an older, distinguished-looking gentleman who might have been part of Parliament, he started over. This time Seto stood his ground.

“What are you doing here?” Katsuya asked without even pretending politeness. At least he kept his voice down. 

“I would guess I was invited,” Seto snapped, aware Atemu had given him the same retort at Alexandra’s. 

Katusya’s eyes narrowed. Seto could see him sizing him up and he did the same to him. Katsuya was not impressive. Slender, medium build, perhaps fit but not powerful, he had good-natured good looks at contrast with the suspicious scowl he was wearing. His suit looked finer than the last time and the badge gleamed on his chest. Seto knew he wasn’t merely a lowly patrolman; he wasn’t wearing a uniform of any kind and his hat was not a patrolman’s cap. That made him a higher-ranking official, yet he could hardly be older than Seto. He must have risen so quickly through connections rather than hard work and merit. His apparent friendship with Yuugi, who might have been a prince or princess’ son if he was Atemu’s cousin, could explain it. 

“Nothing better to do?” Katsuya inquired baldly, “than to come to a bunch of parties where you don’t know anyone?”

“I suppose not.”

Katsuya glared again. He was suspicious of Seto and annoyed he wasn’t being more helpful in his line of questioning. Why was he suspicious of him anyway? What could the answer be, besides he and Yuugi knowing, if only vaguely, of his relationship with Atemu? They couldn’t possibly suspect its nature, so why did they care at all? Perhaps it was some grudge of Yuugi’s. Atemu had spoken of him with cold anger that might have concealed genuine hatred. If Yuugi felt the same, and saw Atemu becoming friendly with Seto, he might have sought to hurt Atemu by turning Seto, and anyone else, against his cousin. But then why was Katsuya so hostile? Surely he and Yuugi would have attempted to be friendly to Seto if they intended to spoil him against Atemu. 

Speaking of whom, Yuugi himself came up. “Ah, there you are, Katsuya. Why, hello, Kaiba.”

Yuugi, at least, seemed to be trying the friendly approach. Mostly to get Katsuya off his back, Seto inclined his head politely. 

“Hello, Yuugi.”

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Well enough,” Seto lied.

“Atemu promised he’d come down sometime.”

The abrupt mention of Atemu seemed like a trap. Yuugi was feeling out Seto on that issue. Seto decided it would be safer to pretend disinterest. 

“The prince? That’s nice.”

Yuugi frowned so faintly that Seto almost couldn’t see it. But Yuugi completely gave up beating around the bush. “Oh? But I thought you were becoming friends?”

“What makes you say that?” Seto asked, keeping his voice mild while inside he was getting worried.

“Oh, just meaningless gossip. You know how our peers are.” Yuugi smiled, waving his hand. “One of Atemu’s friends mentioned seeing you at the opera is all, and Atemu wanted to talk to you alone. Your fathers were friends, you know. She thought it was sweet their sons might follow suit.”

Seto wondered if he was imagining the slight sneer in Yuugi’s voice. Surely such an expression was obvious on Katsuya’s face. He was sure Yuugi was telling him all that to press the issue. Seto continued pretending he didn’t care. 

“Atemu merely wanted to tell me of a book he saw me consider purchasing when we bumped into each other at a book store in London. He didn’t want his friends missing the opera, but neither of us cared for it.”

Seto knew Atemu’s servants had seen them both there, so there was no sense pretending otherwise. And the connection of events helped cover up the liaison in the private box. He could only hope Atemu’s gag order would stop James and the nervous man mentioning the pub.

“That’s Prince Atemu,” Katsuya said snidely. “If you didn’t like the opera, why’d you stay?”

“I was chaperoning my brother,” Seto said with wearing patience. If the woman had been gossiping about trivial things like Atemu wanting to talk to him, the blossoming child romance between a Kaiba and a Kensington had likely been mentioned. Katsuya was questioning things he already knew to see Seto’s answer. But again, why? 

“Oh, your brother,” Yuugi said. “He’s not here? I hope he hasn’t taken ill.”

Yuugi was pretending to be the polite gentlemen again.

“No. He’s at another engagement, thank you.”

Yuugi smiled, then nudged Katsuya’s arm. “There’s Catherine. Excuse me, please, Kaiba.”

“Of course,” Seto said, relieved. 

Yuugi went to greet a beautiful blond woman, a different Catherine than the Duchess, who wore a very rich champagne colored gown and pearls. She was no taller than Yuugi and from the way she smiled when he came up, she was as taken by him as Rose was with Mokuba.

Katsuya didn’t follow immediately, but he stayed only long enough to threaten Seto again. “I don’t like you,” he said softly. “You’ve got some reason for always being here, and it isn’t good. I’m going to figure it out, so you’d better give up your plans now. ‘Cause when I do, you’ll really be sorry.”

“I’ll take that into consideration. Let me know when you do figure it out, okay?”

Katsuya gave his angriest glare yet, then went to join Yuugi and Catherine and a knot of young adults who had gathered. Seto knew it was foolish to goad him, but he didn’t like being intimidated and he wanted, again, to encourage Katsuya into thinking he was a possible thief or something rather than the truth. 

He couldn’t leave now. Yuugi would wonder what had scared him off and might turn his attention back to his relationship with Atemu. Seto now was sure Yuugi knew nothing of Katsuya’s hostile and suspicious attitude. They had different ideas of why Seto was there.

But Seto also couldn’t interact with Atemu, and certainly couldn’t disappear with him. He’d have to endure the party for a time and then leave without talking to him. Or, if Atemu approached him, receive him coldly. Which would probably only antagonize him and make him think Seto had come for the express purpose of taunting him.

A few people he knew vaguely came up to chat and Seto reluctantly was polite, to help keep Yuugi and Katsuya guessing. If it seemed like he had been bored and was just there for the party, that would be good, even if it was well known he generally didn’t do the social scene. He’d been right; all this was more trouble than it was worth.

He had difficulty hanging on to that sentiment when Atemu showed up an hour after he’d gotten there. 

The prince was wearing his usual attire of red and black, though he had a poinsettia, rather than a rose, in his lapel. A couple of pretty girls went up to talk to him, so he didn’t see Seto right away. Sesto considered making an effort to dodge him all together, but saw Yuugi watching him, still in the company of Katsuya, Catherine, and the rest. Still, he could probably avoid Atemu without making it too obvious. Or maybe pretend being ill and go home right then.

Yuugi ruined his chance by walking right across to Atemu and pointing him out. Atemu’s expression was unabashedly cold when Yuugi first came up to him, but he looked surprised when he looked across to Seto, something that Yuugi had surely picked up on. Damn it.

Atemu immediately came over to him. Damn it again. But if he threw Seto out, then maybe good. Yuugi would get what he wanted, Katsuya would have no more reason to suspect him, and this game would be over. They’d part ways and Seto would never see him again. 

“Seto,” Atemu said in a low voice. “I didn’t expect you here.”

“I didn’t either,” Seto said guardedly.

Atemu, like Yuugi and Katsuya before, cut right to the chase. “If this is some sort of ploy of yours, a mockery of—“

“Of course not.”

“Then why are you here?”

Seto evaded the question. “I thought the party was open to everyone. Tell me to leave if you don’t want me here.”

Atemu’s eyes narrowed, but he said, “It is open for everyone. Enjoy yourself.”

He turned and walked away. Immediately one of the two girls who had waylaid him earlier did so again. A man whom Seto recognized as one of Atemu’s friends from the opera house also went to talk to him. Seto sought out Yuugi and saw him back with his own friends. Katsuya was still giving Seto the evil eye, but Yuugi had far different expression. He looked smugly pleased. Seto suspected he was happy the meeting between himself and Atemu had been frosty. Alienating people from his cousin did seem to be his goal.

Suddenly Seto was angry. Who did Yuugi think he was, manipulating people, just to harass his unloved cousin? If they had bad blood between them, that was their business—and should stay their business. He wondered if Atemu knew Yuugi was possibly spreading rumors about him. Talk about a dangerous game as Atemu would one day be king and could truly make life unpleasant for Yuugi. Especially if he did find out Yuugi’s callous actions and took offense. But should Seto tell him, or let Atemu find out on his own and stay out of it? Yuugi was still royal and Katsuya was a constable. Revenge could indeed be terrible from them. 

Seto decided to take the chance and let Atemu know. If he hadn’t wanted to be Atemu’s plaything, he certainly didn’t want to be Yuugi’s. 

The king joined the party at that moment. Atemu went to greet him along with every favored court flunky in attendance. Yuugi also went to talk to him. If he had favor with the king, being a nephew, and rivalry with Atemu that was well-known, then there probably wasn’t anything Atemu could do to him, until he was king, which could be a while yet. King Aknamkanon was middle age, but looked in extreme good health. Atemu might just have to put up with Yuugi’s nastiness. Still, wouldn’t hurt to let Atemu know, and might rock Yuugi’s smug little confident attitude.

“Ah, Seto, what a pleasant surprise to see you here,” Aknamkanon said when he saw him. “I hope this holiday sees you well.”

“Yes, thank you, Your Majesty.” Seto bowed slightly. “And yourself?”

“Yes, yes. It’s a good day. Great food, good health, good company, and the birthday of our Savior.”

“I see all the rest, Your Highness, but I see no food!” a man Seto didn’t know said with obvious joking in his voice. 

King Aknamkanon laughed along with several others in the ballroom. “You’re right!”

He clapped his hands and immediately servants bearing trays of food began entering the room from the door leading to the kitchens. The guests dispersed to their seats and Seto went to sit down himself. As there were fewer guests for the Yuletide Ball than before, only the two tables that sat at right angles to the royal table were used. Seto sat down at a place near the closer end, noting that coincidence had placed him within easy view of Atemu and Yuugi, both of whom sat at the royal table, Atemu on his father’s left and Yuugi to the right of the empty place always reserved for the queen’s memory. Katsuya, who apparently was friendly with Yuugi only, sat down at the third table, his back thankfully to Seto. 

The meal dragged on. Seto kept sneaking glances up at the royal table. Atemu seemed withdrawn, staring broodingly at his plate. The king, on the other hand, seemed quite cheerful, keeping up a conversation with Yuugi, laughing and drinking a lot of wine. Yuugi kept refilling his cup, seeming intent on being chummy with his king. As always, Seto didn’t like his smile. Something was up. He had to talk to Atemu, frankly and in secret, whether Atemu wanted to or not.

Dinner finally ended, though the ball did not. Eggnog, brandy, and wine was served with Christmas cookies after the meal plates had been cleared and people went back to mingling and chatting. Atemu disappeared from the room before Seto could get to him and request some privacy. The king, still drinking wine, was now making small talk with an older, proper-looking woman who had to be from very old money. Yuugi and Katsuya were together with their friends again, neither paying attention to Seto. It was the perfect opportunity, but Atemu was not in the room any longer. He had probably returned to his chambers.

Well, Seto knew the way there, thanks to the botched attempt last time. Did he dare attempt again?

Yuugi and Katsuya were not paying attention to him. The dinner was over, so no one would be surprised if he left; with Mokuba at another party, he could pretend leaving to go and pick him up. So he decided to do just that. He told a few people around him it was time for him to go and bid them goodnight. They returned the goodbyes and Seto headed towards the exit of the ballroom that led to the entrance hall. He glanced back briefly as he went through the doorway, checking that Yuugi and Katsuya still weren’t watching him and King Aknamkanon also did not notice.

In the entrance hall, he turned and retraced his route, cautiously, that he had taken during the Feast of All Saints Ball. Like before, though he saw an occasional servant and passed the occasional guard, no one stopped him. No one did more than glance at him. Why? Had Atemu, or even King Aknamkanon, given him full clearance through the castle? He didn’t know why they’d do that, when Atemu hadn’t known who he was and Aknamkanon hadn’t invited him to take his father’s place as a friend of the crown.

On the third floor, South wing, Seto faced the double doors that were supposed to lead to Atemu’s chambers. There was no one around, so he went forward and knocked. There was no answer, so he tried again, but with the result. He knew that the chambers beyond likely consisted of sitting room, bedroom, and bath, along with one or two balconies, so it was possible Atemu was inside and out of earshot. He knocked harder, as hard as he dared, but there was still no response. Only this time, the harder knocked resulted in the unlatched door swinging open slightly.

Seto paused, suddenly concerned. While Atemu might not keep his private rooms locked, as servants would need to enter to clean, he didn’t understand why the door had only been allowed to drift closed rather than actually be latched in the doorframe. 

He put his hand against the door and eased it open a little more, calling Atemu’s name softly. Still no answer and he eased the door open further, peering into the sitting room. As expected, it was lavish, but more comfortable looking than the extravagantly furnished public rooms downstairs. The walls were papered with white-and-silver striped wallpaper, which matched the plush sofa-and-chairs set facing the enormous gold-veined white marble fireplace. Two end tables and a coffee table were made of dark, polished mahogany. The carpet was mauve, thick and lush, making the white-and-silver motif stand out starkly, as did the gold fixtures, which included a large gold-and-crystal chandelier, gold sconces with frosted-glass, and gold handles on the dark mahogany doors leading to the sitting room balcony, which were partially seen through half-open silver curtains. A few pieces of dark mahogany sideboards completed the beautiful décor.

The sitting room was empty. Seto hesitantly stepped into the room, knowing that if he were caught in here, he was in real trouble. Nevertheless, there had been no guards to be seen at all in the South wing. He could glance around quickly and leave.

“Atemu?”

Still no answer. Seto crossed the room towards the double mahogany doors on the right, which were wide open and lead into the bedroom. The mauve carpet turned to cream in here, and the décor was done in red and gold, which seemed to suit Atemu more than the cool silver and white of the sitting room. The wood of the furniture had lightened to a dark honey gold. The room was just as large as the sitting room, though more crowded with the enormous four poster bed with canopy, high boy, wardrobe, and a pair of chairs on either side of a small, round breakfast table by the doors leading to the second balcony. This room was also empty, and Seto’s call was unanswered. All that was left was the single door leading to the bathroom, which stood open.

Seto knew he should go while he had the chance, but he crossed the room to the bathroom door, peering in without entering. This room long and narrow, containing pitcher, bowl, and cloths for morning washing, claw-footed bathtub, and chamber pot. Atemu wasn’t in there, as he knew he wouldn’t be, with the door open.

So Atemu wasn’t in the suite at all. The castle was large; he could be anywhere. Seto would have to leave without speaking to him. If he saw him again sometime, he’d tell him what he thought, but until and unless he did, Atemu would just have to figure it out on his own.

As Seto was turning towards the double doors leading into the sitting room, he heard voices. Yuugi and Katsuya. His temperature plummeted even as his heart started racing. What were they doing here? Had they seen him come up after all? Followed him? Without thinking about it, Seto hurried quickly and quietly over to the closet and slipped inside, closing the door most of the way, but not all of the way, so that the click of the latch wouldn’t get their attention.

“Atemu?” Yuugi’s voice called from the sitting room. “Are you in here, dear cousin?”

Seto heard a soft snort that he thought came from Katsuya. Yuugi made a shushing noise, but they were getting closer, not further away. Trapped in the closet, Seto listened quietly, regulating his breathing. Yuugi and Katsuya entered the room, there was a pause, then Yuugi spoke.

“He’s not here. Hm. Where have you gotten to, Atemu?”

“Probably out in one of the gardens, moping,” Katsuya said nastily. 

“Yes, he’s prone to that, isn’t he? I wonder why.”

“It’s so tough to be the prince.”

Yuugi chuckled, but said, “Don’t be too thoughtless with your comments, Katsuya. I am nephew to the Crown after all.”

Katsuya said nothing. The silence seemed weighted, covering some dark emotion. 

Yuugi must have thought so as well, because he said, “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

“No,” Katsuya said quickly. Then added, “But I don’t have to like your relatives to like you.”

Yuugi chuckled again, more darkly than before. “That’s true. But you do like me, don’t you?”

There was another silence, that was even more weighted than before. The air was oppressive and it itched at Seto’s skin. He didn’t know what it meant, but something set his animal instincts off. He had to see what was going on and he finally dared to ease open the closet door a little, praying the hinges wouldn’t squeal. They didn’t; the door was superbly made and maintained. He opened it just enough to peer out with one eye.

“Don’t you?” Yuugi repeated, his voice soft and almost hypnotic, yet cold. 

Seto saw them through the crack in the door, in the middle of the space between the side of the bed and doorway. Katsuya was kneeling on the carpet in front of Yuugi, who was bending over him, one arm at his side, the other hand fisted in Katsuya’s blond hair, his hat on the floor behind him. Seto could see Yuugi more from the front, though he saw enough of Katsuya’s face to see that Yuugi’s grip hurt. 

“You’re loyal to me. You love me.”

“Yes,” Katsuya whispered.

The hair on Seto’s neck stood up. That one word was filled with emotion. The voice of someone who was completely and totally devoted as well as the whine of someone who wished they weren’t. Of someone who was hooked on something he knew was bad for him and totally unable to help himself.

Yuugi smiled. The smile was pitiless and cold. Cruel. But then his grip relaxed and he bent down, tilting his head and claiming Katsuya’s mouth. Seto stared in shock, watching as Yuugi kissed Katsuya deeply. When he saw Yuugi’s tongue slide into Katsuya’s mouth, he’d seen more than he wanted to and stepped back, his mind racing. Yuugi and Katsuya were lovers, not merely friends. They mutually disliked Atemu. Yuugi had some sort of power over Katsuya, perhaps Katsuya’s desperate devotion to him, perhaps something else. Seto knew he’d found out something vital, but couldn’t figure out its meaning. 

Outside in the bedroom he heard Katsuya moan. Closing his eyes, he tried to distract himself, not wanting to hear. For whatever reason, rather than leaving instead of being caught in Atemu’s chambers, Yuugi and Katsuya were progressing beyond merely kissing if the half-suppressed noises were any indication. Seto opened his eyes and turned slightly, eyes scanning the nearly-dark confines of the closet, looking for anything to sidetrack his attention. 

A thump sounded from outside the room, followed immediately by a grunt, then groan from Katsuya. Seto wasn’t looking and didn’t want to think about it, but it had sounded like Yuugi pushing Katsuya against something solid. A short yelp and a shush from Yuugi. The rustle of clothing and a muffled moan. 

Seto stared determinedly at a jacket, struggling to disengage from the situation. He wanted to put his hands over his ears, but feared missing them leaving and losing track of time until still being at the castle couldn’t be easily explained away. 

Yuugi suddenly moaned along with Katsuya gasping sharply. Seto shut his eyes, clenching his teeth and his fists, wishing he’d never come up here. 

The pair’s noises, though remaining low and stifled, quickly grew in rate, in passion. At last, with another short yelp from Katsuya and a groan from Yuugi, they were quiet save for exhausted panting. A period of stillness that was shorter than it seemed but frayed Seto’s nerves was finally broken by the rustle of clothing, then Yuugi’s voice.

“We should go.”

“Yeah.”

Silence followed. Seto uncurled his fists and slowly blew out a breath, then cautiously went to the door. Peering through the crack, he saw nothing in the narrow field of vision directly in front of the closet. He pushed it open wider, then stuck his head out. There was no one in the room and no signs of Yuugi and Katsuya’s activities, or that they had even been there. Making a face, Seto walked across the room and peered around the doorframe. No one in the sitting room. He crossed that room and peered into the South wing entrance hall. No one.

Seto went to the hallway and then to the stairs. He kept his thoughts on nothing but getting out of the castle. 

But he couldn’t shake the idea that he’d missed something vital. Not Yuugi and Katsuya defiling Atemu’s bedroom, not their dislike of him, not even that they’d been in the South wing twice when Seto had been there, as it was clear they hadn’t known he was there. Something else. 

But what?

tbc...


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine:

As Seto was heading down the stairs, he nearly ran into Yuugi and Katsuya. Thankfully he heard their voices just in time and stopped on the landing above them. They were talking together, but not about Atemu or Seto; instead they were talking about something insipid. He was almost disappointed as if he’d had to come upon them again talking in secret, he’d would have rather they were talking about something incriminating. He was sure they were up to something. He just had to find out what.

Trapped on the landing above, Seto impatiently waited for their conversation to end. He was sure there were other staircases, but he couldn’t risk finding one. And he couldn’t be caught where he was. Why had he risked it coming up here?

Abruptly a new voice joined the two below; a servant by her manner. “Master Yuugi, sir, I’ve been sent to inform you, the King has taken ill.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know, sir. He was suddenly ill to his stomach and retired to his chambers. We’ve been trying to find Prince Atemu. Do you know where he is?”

“No, I’m afraid not. What happened to the party?”

“The guests are leaving.”

“Then I’d better go down there and see them out. Make sure you find Atemu. I’m sure he’ll want to know.”

“Yes, sir.”

Footsteps. Going down, but also coming up. Seto turned and hurried back into the South wing antechamber. Atemu’s chambers were too far to make before the woman came up the stairs and he didn’t want to hide in the closet again. Instead, he went into the closest room and waited. As expected, the servant ignored the other two rooms and went directly for Atemu’s. Seto slipped out, made it to the stairs, and down. 

Yuugi and Katsuya were not in the hall and thankfully not by the front doors. They must have gone to the ballroom to thank the guests for coming. 

Outside, Seto walked with some of the other guests to where carriages awaited. He got into his and as he was being driven home, he glanced out at the bright castle. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

******

A few days later, news reached even the relatively isolated Kaiba manor. The King was very sick. It had seemed he would get better after his illness at the Christmas Ball, but he had relapsed again. All of England was following the gossip with bated breath, discussing the possible causes. The King had always before been in robust health, and he was still relatively young. 

Seto was in London on business, eating lunch at a favorite eatery of the upper class, when a breathless young man broke into the room. Everyone paused in what they were doing.

“The King is dead!”

Gasps sounded from every corner of the room. The young man nodded so rapidly when another asked him if he was telling the truth that his hat slid off. He caught it before it hit the ground and jammed it back on, too excited to be embarrassed.

“Heard it straight from the palace. King Aknamkanon is dead. Died this morning, right before sunrise.”

Seto lowered his fork, shocked. They’d all known the King was sick, but no one had suspected this. What had happened? But the young man only shook his head when others asked. No one knew. The King had been complaining of stomach pains, and then he was dead. 

As the young man continued fielding questions from others in the eatery, one thought came to Seto’s mind. Atemu. The young prince must have been devastated. The death was a great shock, it had come from nowhere. No one had been prepared for it.

Seto stood and left the eatery, getting into his carriage. The driver took him on to the palace, where it was obvious something bad had happened, that the news was true. Guards at the front gates were attempting to keep curious onlookers at bay, the flag was at half-mast, and a general feeling of somberness had settled across the palace. 

Though Seto didn’t expect anything, he went up to the palace gates, to where the harried looking guards were angrily telling people to stay back. One glared at him.

“Oi. Stay back, you.”

“I want to see the prince,” Seto said.

The guard looked shocked. His face turned purple. “What’s the matter with you, eh? Ain’t it enough--”

“Master Kaiba.”

It was Lady Helen. She was coming up the walk, her servants making way for her with a combination of words and shoves. Her face pale, eyes huge and alarmed, she reached out to grab his arm.

“I was just summoned. Is it true?”

“I think so.”

The Lady covered her mouth with one dainty, gloved hand. The palace guards were opening the gate for her to enter. She didn’t seem to notice. She lowered her hand enough to ask Seto why he was there.

“I came to see the prince. I expect--”

“Of course, of course, how kind of you,” she said. “I think he might need some support right now, yes, please, come with me.”

She linked her arm through his, giving him the excuse, and no choice, to accompany her through. They walked up the long drive to the front doors, which were opened for them by more guards. Lady Helen remained silent and stiff, clearly not wanting to believe. However, the sight of another woman, perhaps another lady-in-waiting of the late queen, who had remained in residence at the palace despite there being no queen to attend to, coming up to her with tears streaming unhindered down her face broke her resolve. Lady Helen covered her mouth again, letting go of Seto’s arm, and moaned miserably through her fingers. The two women threw their arms around each other and began to cry, leaving Seto standing awkwardly. 

“I had hoped it wasn’t true,” Lady Helen said through her tears.

“It’s true,” the other woman said. “Gone this morning, so suddenly. Nothing we could do for him.”

Lady Helen sobbed, then straightened up, wiping tears from her cheek. “Where’s the prince?”

“Disappeared into the rose garden, poor thing. Wants to be left alone, won’t talk to anyone. He was with him at the last, and that’s a blessing, but it’s a terrible thing too. I don’t know what to do. I just don’t know what to do.”

The other woman began to cry again. This time Lady Helen tried to comfort her, putting her arm around her shoulders and leading her over to the nearest chair, seeming to have forgotten Seto was there. Another woman was coming over, not crying, but looking just as pale and upset. Left where he was, Seto shifted, then turned and headed deeper into the palace. Everywhere there were servants and guards rushing back and forth, agitated with equal parts of not knowing what to do and wanting to talk with each other. More than one woman was crying and nearly everyone looked shocked and lost. No one paid Seto any attention, perhaps figuring if he was there, he was allowed to be there.

Seto didn’t care if they had paid him any attention either. He walked quickly and purposefully to the ballroom, through it, and outside. Descending the familiar stone steps, he entered the gardens, heading towards the area that was all roses, treading the well-kept paths through the bushes that were now bare and brown, paying no attention to the iciness of the air. It had snowed in a few days, but there had been no relief to the frigid temperatures, so the bushes were still largely frosted with snow and ice. 

There was only one trail of boot prints out here. Seto followed them through the twisting maze of leafless bushes, until he came to one of the clearings. In the center was a grand dogwood tree, as sad and barren as the rosebushes, laden with snow and ice. At its base was a bench of marble, with carved lions as supports, and on that bench, his face in his hands, was Atemu.

Seto hesitated at the threshold of the clearing, wondering if he was overstepping his boundaries. His only thought had been to come here, but the real reason eluded him. He didn’t know Atemu very well, and the King even less.

Seto walked across the clearing and sat down silently next to Atemu. The prince’s shoulders tensed, but as Seto sat there without speaking, he finally looked up.

“I told you--”

He broke off as he saw who it was. His eyes were red-rimmed from tears, his cheeks blotchy. He had neither hat nor gloves and his coat was unbuttoned. Sniffling, his voice was shaky with grief.

“Seto. What are you doing here?”

“I heard the news,” Seto said softly. 

“So did everyone.”

“So I…came here…to see if there was anything I could do,” Seto said uncomfortably.

Atemu stared at him for a long moment, then turned his head, looking out over the stark landscape aimlessly. The silence stretched on, and Seto was wondering if he should leave. He had no right to be there, and was astonished with himself for coming. He didn’t know Atemu well enough to offer comfort and indeed Atemu had made it clear to everyone else in the palace that he wanted to be left alone. 

His one thought at hearing that the King had died was to come here to see Atemu, and he sort of knew why. The only people Atemu had to turn to were palace staff, who were isolated from him by position, and his cousin, who hated him. Any real friends Atemu had, who knew how long before they heard and could make it? Despite his wishes to be left alone, Atemu was just that, alone. Somehow, deep down, Seto had not wanted him to be by himself at this time, and that depth of feeling worried him. But Atemu spoke again before he could make the decision to get up.

“What am I going to do?” he asked bleakly.

Seto shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t know what to say. 

“My father is dead,” Atemu went on, his voice breaking a little. “And now I am King.”

That was true, Seto realized with a jolt. King Aknamkanon had passed on, and that left Atemu, his only child, as King of England. 

“How am I going to be King?” Atemu whispered. 

Atemu’s grief was only compounded with his obvious fear of his current position. Finding himself abruptly leader of the nation had to be daunting. 

“I’m sure you’ll be a great King,” Seto said awkwardly. 

Atemu looked at him. “How do you know?”

“I don’t,” Seto admitted. “But I’m sure you will be.”

Empty words, and Seto felt stupid. Atemu looked away again.

“What killed him?” he asked suddenly, his voice so weak that Seto could barely hear him. “He was fine just a few days ago!”

“People said he was ill. It must--”

“It wasn’t an illness! He told me his stomach hurt him on Christmas and then he was dead!”

It wasn’t quite that simple. Aknamkanon had been ill for days. Whatever had taken his life might even have been working on him before any symptoms had began to manifest. Atemu was grief-stricken and not thinking clearly. It had to have come as a great shock. And he was angry, as people often were when a loved one abruptly died. 

“Prince, he was sick. He was for several days before--”

“No symptoms, nothing but his stomach hurting him! He wasn’t coughing, he wasn’t throwing up, he was just… in pain.” Atemu’s voice went weak again and his eyes filled with tears. “In so much pain, and feverish, and then he died. The physicians couldn’t do anything for him.”

Atemu bent forward and put his face in his hands again. Seto hesitated, then rested his hand on his shoulder. Atemu didn’t shake him off, so they sat like that, Atemu hiding his face but not crying, Seto sitting beside him, ineptly offering comfort.

“Atemu?”

Atemu’s head shot up and Seto let his hand fall from his shoulder. Yuugi stepped into the clearing, looking shocked to see Seto there, before he focused on his cousin, his face looking morose and sympathetic.

“Are you ok?”

“What do you think?” Atemu snarled fiercely. He surged to his feet, fists clenched at his sides. “Leave me alone, Yuugi!”

“I just came to see to you,” Yuugi said, looking offended. 

“Suddenly you care about me?” Atemu snapped scathingly. 

“You’re my cousin.” Yuugi spread his hands, looking reasonable, but wary. 

Atemu snorted derisively, then stalked forward. Yuugi stiffened as if he expected Atemu to suddenly strike him, but Atemu went right by him and into the rose-maze, heading back to the palace. As he passed him, he said, “Yuugi, don’t you dare show your face to me again. Come on, Seto. It’s cold out here.”

Atemu disappeared into the bushes as Seto got to his feet and followed. Yuugi stood silently by the entrance to the maze, looking at him with a mix of bemusement and uncertainty. Seto paused when he drew near him.

“I don’t know what your game is, Yuugi,” he said finally. “But I know you hate him, and don’t pretend otherwise.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Yuugi said with false innocence. “How can you talk that way to someone who’s grieving?”

Seto scowled. “He’s the one who’s grieving, and he doesn’t need you playing your childish games, trying to make him miserable. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but leave Atemu alone.”

Yuugi’s acting stopped and the mask of confusion and indignation shattered. “I thought you weren’t friends with him, Kaiba? What are you doing here?”

“Leave him alone,” Seto repeated. He walked into the maze, following Atemu and leaving Yuugi glaring at his back.

tbc...


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten:

Seto caught up with Atemu halfway through the maze back to the palace. Atemu was walking fast, but Seto caught up easily enough. As he did, Atemu sighed and slowed down, all of his anger seeming to drain out of him. Seto remembered that he’d intended to tell Atemu about Yuugi’s underhanded scheme, but now was not the time.

“Seto, thank you… for coming.”

“You’re welcome.”

They lapsed into more silence, which seemed awkward on Seto’s part, but Atemu didn’t seem to care. He was lost in his thoughts, watching the path under his feet and nothing else. Seto walked with him back to the castle; upon entering the palace, they were immediately waylaid by Lady Helen, who came up to Atemu with a look of hesitation.

“Prince…”

“I’m ok, Helen,” Atemu said heavily. 

Her eyes still glittering with tears, Lady Helen hugged Atemu to her, a few of those tears tracking down her cheeks. Atemu allowed her to hug him but didn’t return it, his arms at his sides. After a moment, Helen released him and sniffled, wiping her cheeks.

“What--”

“I think I’ll just go to my chambers. I’m not in the mood for dinner.”

Helen nodded, but she looked concerned as Atemu turned away and headed down the hall, not looking at anyone and not looking back. Helen sniffled again and turned to Seto. She managed a faint, watery smile.

“Thank you, again, for coming. It’s so kind of you.”

Seto nodded awkwardly. He turned at noise from the doorway behind him and watched as Yuugi entered the palace again from outside, violet eyes locking on his as soon as he saw him. Yuugi’s expression revealed nothing, though his gaze seemed hard. Then he turned his attention to Lady Helen as the woman stepped up to him, his face softening with a smile of mixed gratitude and sympathy. Helen hugged him like she had Atemu and Yuugi hugged her back. 

“Yuugi, I’m so sorry,” Lady Helen said.

“So am I,” Yuugi murmured. “It’s a devastating blow.”

Helen released him enough to lean back, though she kept her hands on his shoulders, Yuugi’s arms still around her waist. “It is. So unexpected. Just terrible. The poor prince, I just don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Atemu will be fine. He has many people who love him to look after him.”

Lady Helen smiled and reached up to touch his cheek. “You’re so sweet.” Helen sighed and stepped back. “I’d better go and see what I can do.”

“Me too. There will be much to do, many preparations to arrange.”

Helen nodded, then turned to Seto. “Thank you again. Should I arrange a way home for you?”

“My carriage is waiting for me outside, thank you, Lady.”

Seto had expected Yuugi to hang around, maybe try to get answers out of him again, but the shorter man walked away without even looking at Seto again. Helen patted Seto’s arm and said goodbye, heading away down the opposite end of the hall, in the same direction Atemu had gone. Perhaps she wanted to see if she could offer him some comfort despite his withdrawing.

Seto sighed and headed towards the front doors of the palace. There was nothing else he could do.

******

For the next fortnight, no one wanted to talk about anything but the King’s death. Everywhere Seto went, even within his own manor, it was the talk of the town. Many wondered what had happened. A lot reminisced about the King. And many expressed their concern about their new ruler. It was no secret that Prince Atemu was a playboy and a capricious person. Would Atemu settle down and act like a proper Victorian gentleman, be a role model for the people, and rule them like his father? Or would he fail and tarnish his beloved father’s memory?

The current popular opinion was mixed. The older generations, haughty and old-fashioned, were not in favor of Atemu and often spoke of how scandalized they were of his disrespect of tradition. The younger generations were for him, especially the young women, who were enchanted with the rebel prince, much to the displeasure of their mothers. 

On 5th January, Seto had seen Mokuba back to boarding school, the winter holiday over. Mokuba had moped the last couple of days before leaving. Seto knew he was going to be missing his little girlfriend, but he hadn’t put up a fight and had gone back to school that afternoon. The manor definitely seemed quieter when he wasn’t there. Seto ended up spending more of his time in London, working with his father’s business partners, even accepting business lunches with them, to fill up his hours.

Charlotte had not given up her campaign to snare him. Invitation after invitation to parties, soirées, picnics, and carriage rides showed up to his house, all ignored and tossed into the fireplace. Alexandra, on the other hand, seemed to have decided to. A smarter woman than Charlotte, perhaps she had finally recognized a lost cause when she saw one. But not Charlotte.

One day when Seto was out with his father’s old accountant, who still handled the finances of the manor, Charlotte showed up at the same café. In attendance with a few other girls and a couple of young men, she spotted him nearly as soon as their laughing party had entered. Her eyes lit up and she excused herself from her friends, coming over to him. Seto sighed and stood reluctantly along with the accountant as she approached.

“Charlotte,” he said.

“Hello, Seto, darling. I’m so happy to see you.”

“I bet.”

“Won’t you come over and join us?” She paused just slightly and said, “We’re an uneven group. Three women, two men. A lady is left over and shouldn’t be unescorted.”

“I don’t think so. I’m here on business and when I’m finished, I’ll be going home.”

Charlotte’s smile faltered, then she tried a pout. “But, Seto, darling, you always say no.”

‘That should give you a clue, moron,’ Seto thought. Out loud he said, “I’m a very busy man, Charlotte.”

Charlotte smiled again, coyly. “I know. But, you know, you should take some time out to have some fun. You’ll have plenty of time to be a businessman when you’re married.”

Seto ignored the not-so-subtle suggestion. The accountant was either not paying attention, or politely pretending not to. He was shuffling through his papers. Seto turned away and resumed his seat.

“Maybe some other time.”

Charlotte looked down at him, glanced at her friends, then back at him. Finally, with a soft scoff that would have received a lecture had she been in hearing range of her mother, Charlotte stalked back to her friends. Seto glanced after her, smirked, then turned back to the accountant, who smoothly resumed his summation as if they had not been interrupted. 

Once the business was finished, the accountant gathered up all of his papers and took his leave. Seto paid for the lunch, then followed suit. He had to pass by the table Charlotte and her friends had been seated at and he did so looking straight ahead, not even glancing at them, but he saw her looking out of the corner of his eye and the conversation died as he passed, only to resume in a more frenzied chatter. 

Outside, Seto climbed into his carriage and directed the driver to take him home. As the carriage passed across the road that led to the palace, Seto glanced out the window, watching the palace until it had disappeared behind the beginning of the next block. Over two weeks since the King had died. How was Atemu coping? 

At home, Seto’s butler bowed to him in the entrance foyer, taking his coat from him and holding out a thick, gilded envelope. “This just arrived for this afternoon, sir.”

Seto took the envelope, flipped it over, and saw the royal wax seal on the back. Seto stared for a long time at the wax seal, seeing the royal coat of arms embedded in the wax. The coat of arms from the engraving of a ring, the King’s signature ring. Once Aknamkanon’s and now… Atemu’s?

Seto finally walked into his study and grabbed a letter opener to split the seal, pulling out a piece of parchment. At the heading was an ink rendering of the same coat of arms what followed was a form-letter invitation to the official coronation of King Atemu. Seto stared at the invitation, then slowly lay it upon the desk. The coronation ball, following a rite crowning Atemu King of England. It was to happen on twelfth, a week hence. The royal burial of King Aknamkanon was to happen tomorrow, four days after his death. It seemed awfully quick to have the coronation, but time and the country’s affairs would not wait. Atemu would not be afforded the luxury of a decent mourning period. Or much of a chance to adjust to his new position before being called upon for his new duties. The coronation itself was merely a public formality. Atemu was already King and as such he had things to do already, things he could not escape from.

The days of being a scamp were over. Atemu would be a whole different person. He would have to be.

Seto took a piece of parchment and a pen and wrote back to accept, sealing it with wax stamped with his own family’s seal ring, a ring he never saw except for this purpose, normally keeping it locked in the drawer. He started to put it away, then paused, lifting it back up to examine it in the light streaming in from the French doors and windows. The ring was thick and heavy, pure silver, with the Kaiba coat of arms engraved on the top. His father had worn this ring every day of his adult life and it had been passed on to Seto on his death.

Seto slipped the ring onto his finger.

******

The next day, the funeral took place. The coffin was loaded onto a fancy wagon drawn by four magnificent black horses and guarded by a dozen Palace Guards. It traveled somberly through the hushed streets from the palace to the Royal Mausoleum in Frogmore, the King’s final resting place. Following the wagon was a carriage in which Atemu and his family rode. After that came more carriages carrying other officials from the palace and Parliament, completing the funeral procession.

Seto rode into London for the procession, meeting Mokuba from boarding school to observe the draped coffin pass by. Every shop and house was shuttered, flags at half mast, every man, woman, and child who was able standing along the streets in respectful dark clothes, the streets silent but from the sounds of the horses’ hooves, the carriage wheels, and women weeping. Seto doffed his hat and lowered his gaze as the procession marched by. Once it was out of sight, hushed conversation began and Seto put his hat back on. Mokuba put his own on and looked up at him.

“What do you think is going to happen now, Seto?” he asked. “The boys at school, some of them, say their fathers say the county will fall apart now. That the Crimean War will come to us.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Seto said more harshly than he’d intended. “The country is not without a King. There’s Prince Atemu to be King. Nothing much is going to change.”

“I guess so,” Mokuba agreed.

“People are foolish. The war won’t come to us. It has nothing to do with us. King Aknamkanon is dead, but our lives aren’t going to change at all.”

******

Seto stepped out of his carriage before the palace, arriving for the coronation ball for King Atemu. The last time he’d seen the palace, it had been somber and dark with mourning for the passing of King Aknamkanon. Now it was once again bright and vibrant, with bunting in royal colors hanging from windowsills and doorframes, the Union Jack flag flying high on the flagpole, and all of the men and women in their best dress, formal, rather than holiday celebratory.

Seto walked up the front walk and into the palace, greeted and announced by a man holding a guest list. The ballroom was packed, more so than it had been on All Hallows’ or Christmas. Seto saw many people he knew from school, social circles, and his father’s business relationships. And far more he did not. 

An addition had been made to the ballroom. At the far side, against one of the walls, was a throne. It was likely not the permanent one in the King’s Audience Chamber, but a portable one used for ceremonies and such. It sat on a red carpet runner, but it was empty.

Seto descended the steps, nodding to the people who greeted him, accepting a flute of champagne from a server. He stood in place near the wall by one of the huge windows looking out into the gardens, the same gardens in which he’d first kissed Atemu, and in which he’d comforted him after Aknamkanon’s passing. Seto sipped his champagne and watched others mingle.

After about half an hour, Alexandra appeared. The older woman smiled when she saw him and changed course to approach. Seto nodded to her as she came up.

“Hello. It’s been a long time,” she said.

“Yes, it has.”

“How have you been, Seto?”

“Well, Alexandra. Yourself?”

“The same, thank you. Anne is betrothed.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you. He’s a fine young man. Youngest of Winston Chesterfield. Have you heard of him?”

“Yes. A member of Parliament.”

“That’s right. Adam, his son, is attending Oxford. To be a lawyer.”

“Wonderful.”

Alexandra sipped her own champagne and sighed. “Yes, it’s the beginning of something new. Much like today. Such a shock the King’s passing was. The poor prince. I remember when the Queen passed. Do you?”

Seto shook his head.

“Oh, no, I suppose you wouldn’t. You’d have been about seven, I suppose. Young and young children never pay much attention to the affairs of adults. Yes, you would have been seven that year, if I remember. Atemu would have been about that age. Such a terrible thing then too. Scarlet fever. Not long after that, the King’s sister came to stay, from Wales. Brought Yuugi along with her. I suppose having a playmate his age would have helped Atemu through his loss.”

Seto doubted it.

“Of course, Yuugi would soon be left an orphan himself. A fire at the cottage in Bristol, absolutely horrible. Yuugi was here, and I can only imagine the pain he must have suffered. There is a lot of tragedy in the royal family, sure enough. They must be such a comfort to each other.”

Seto wanted to ask her why Atemu and Yuugi hated each other, since she knew so much of their history, but clearly she didn’t know this. It was no surprise. Yuugi was perfectly lovely to Atemu in public and Atemu apparently so often skipped formal events that his own cold receptions of Yuugi were probably little seen.

“No doubt,” Seto said instead.

“Now that Atemu is King, hopefully he will settle himself down and find himself a lovely girl to be Queen. There are so many nice girls in the country, I’m sure he will.”

Seto was sure he wouldn’t. He couldn’t help a faint smirk that Alexandra didn’t notice or misinterpreted. 

“The current gossip is that King Aknamkanon was, well, to be crude, pressuring him to court the Lady Margaret of Scotland. I approve. She’s a beautiful, intelligent woman of good standing. A good woman for continuing the line.”

Seto frowned. “Atemu is an only child, isn’t he?”

“Hm? Oh, yes. There were two girls before him, but neither survived infancy.”

Seto blinked in surprise. He hadn’t known Atemu had had any siblings.

“Years ago,” Alexandra went on. “When the King and Queen were newly married. Years before Atemu came along. Such tragedy. Just Atemu left, in fact. Well, and Yuugi. He’s next in line if Atemu doesn’t produce an heir.” Alexandra looked surprised at her own words. “Dear me, what am I doing, dwelling on such dark thoughts? Forgive me. Atemu is just newly King! He has some time yet. Yes, I’m sure he’ll find a lovely girl.”

Seto nodded distantly, taking a sip of his champagne. Silence fell between them, but not for long. Perhaps Alexandra just couldn’t stop herself from being a mother hen.

“Oh, look, there’s Charlotte, dear.”

Drug from his thoughts, Seto looked up and frowned. Charlotte was talking with a group more than halfway across the hall, most the same from the café. Her dark blue dress was very lovely and she looked stunning. 

Seto took a drink and looked away. Alexandra sighed. 

“Seto, dear, surely there must be someone who strikes your fancy?”

Seto scowled at her. “Even if there was, that’s my business, isn’t it?”

Alexandra sipped her champagne. “Yes, I suppose it would be, but I just want what’s best for you. And everyone’s business is everyone else’s in this day and age, whether you like it or not. You can’t do anything without someone finding out about it eventually.”

Seto didn’t answer.

Alexandra’s daughter Anne came over a couple of minutes later with a young man who had to be Adam Chesterfield. He was a thin, bookish-looking man with wire-rimmed glasses and a fussy little goatee, neither handsome nor ugly, whose voice would have suited a mouse as it could barely be heard. Seto wasn’t sure how he was going to make it as a lawyer with that timid voice. Anne, however, was clearly over the moon for him. 

The three; mother, daughter, and soon-to-be son-in-law, started up a conversation about the latest happenings in France, and Seto walked away. He walked along the wall around the ballroom, trying to steer clear of people. He took up residence of a corner, watching people talk.

As he had been anticipating, Yuugi and Katsuya were there. Seto spotted them not too far from his location, talking together near the doorway leading further into the palace. Seto stayed where he was, watching them, waiting for them to notice him. He didn’t need more dealings with them, but he was not going to run out because of them either. 

They didn’t notice him. Not before the ceremony began.

The Archbishop of Canterbury stood at the head of the stairs in his finery, holding what looked like a scroll. Behind him came a younger man bearing a purple velvet pillow. On it sat a crown, shiny gold and studded with sapphires. It was not King Aknamkanon’s crown, the same one that had been passed down through generations of English royalty, this one instead the crown of coronation ceremony. Two other young men appeared as well, holding the other Emblems in their hands.

The Archbishop descended the stairs, walking along the path created by the crowd to the throne, the young men holding the Emblems walking behind him. The Archbishop stopped to the right of the throne, the young men going to the left, and turned to the crowd. He asked if they were willing to pay homage to their new monarch, and everyone in the room responded that they would.

Then entire ballroom fell silent, turning to the throne. A few people shifted for better positions to look. Seto ignored the throne, looking up to the top of the stairs. Sure enough, Atemu had appeared there, wearing the traditional clothing of royalty. White trousers under thigh-high black boots, a red belted jacket, gold belt, and red cloak with white fur trim. He paused for a brief second at the top of the stairs, then descended, his face expressionless, followed by four guards marching two abreast behind him. 

The crowd had realized he was there and they hurriedly parted again in front of him, making another path from the stairs to the throne. Atemu passed by them without looking left or right, walking up to the throne, then turned around and sat down upon it, sitting stiffly upright with his hands on the arms. The Archbishop unrolled the scroll and read off the traditional Coronation Oath, before presenting a Bible for Atemu to swear on. Everyone stood in silence, watching and witnessing, as the ceremony was completed. The Archbishop presented him with the Emblems, the Sword of State, the Sovereign’s Orb, the Scepter with the Dove, and the Scepter with the Cross. Atemu accepted them all. The Archbishop gave Atemu a blessing, then finally lifted the Crown of St. Edward from the velvet pillow. Atemu bowed his head and the Archbishop placed it upon his head.

Seto glanced quickly across the room. Sure enough, Yuugi, standing as far away from the throne as he could be without leaving the room, had a dark look on his face. Katsuya also looked like he was struggling not to sneer. 

Once the crown had been placed, members of the clergy and nobility walked forward to pay homage to King Atemu, while the Archbishop gave him Communion. Once that was completed, Atemu stood again. Everyone bowed before him and Atemu walked back along the path to the stairs, up and out of the ballroom, followed after a moment by the Archbishop and his attendants as the choir sang “God Save the King” as was tradition.

Once they were gone, everyone fell to chatter. Seto stayed where he was, waiting. Before long, Atemu returned, now wearing the Imperial Crown, the same crown that his father had worn for special occasions. The other crown, the Orb, and the Scepters would be returned to their places for safekeeping. The Archbishop was gone, no longer needed. Still followed by the four guards, Atemu walked back to the ceremonial throne, nodding to the people who wished him well or congratulated him, but responded in no other manner, his expression still reserved. He took a seat on the throne.

“Let the celebration begin,” he said.

People spread out, some beginning to dance as the orchestra started to play, some chattering again, none daring to approach Atemu. He sat where he was, watching the proceedings without emotion. Seto stood in his corner and watched him, finishing off his flute of champagne. He was not surprised by Atemu’s lack of happiness, considering what this came upon.

Yuugi crossed the room a few minutes later, leaving Katsuya, and walked up to Atemu. Seto watched closely, noting that Atemu looked at Yuugi without a change in expression, but tilted his chin upward a little, looking more or less down at Yuugi. Whether it was calculated or not, Seto could not tell. He couldn’t see Yuugi’s face clearly enough to see how he took it. Yuugi stopped in front of the throne and spoke softly to Atemu, who responded. For all appearances, they looked like a pair of cousins chatting amicably with each other.

Yuugi left not long after, returning to where Katsuya stood. The pair of them left the ballroom. Seto turned his attention back to Atemu, who his eyes closed. He opened them and looked down at the floor between his feet, expression thoughtful. Seto frowned, then set his flute down upon a side table and walked over to the throne. Atemu looked up when he approached, looking briefly surprised to see him. 

Seto bowed in front of him. “I wished to extend my congratulations, Your Majesty,” he said.

Atemu’s expression changed subtlety. “Thank you, Seto.”

Seto straightened, but wasn’t sure what to say now. Atemu, however, got to his feet. “Walk with me, Seto.”

Surprised, Seto nodded. Atemu started across the ballroom floor, nodding to those who said something to him, but saying nothing. Seto walked beside him, up the stairs and into the palace proper. The four guards were following them, but Atemu turned to them and told them to leave them alone.

“I’m not leaving the palace.”

The guards stationed themselves on either side of the outer side of the ballroom doors and Atemu and Seto walked down the hallway. There were no palace staff about; as with previous celebrations, Seto suspected they had been given time off, once the celebrations were set up and under way. Only the occasional guard stood at rapt attention.

“Ate--erm, Your Maj--”

“Don’t call me that,” Atemu said flatly. 

“Um, very well. Atemu… Where are we going?”

“You have been very kind to me, Seto. Your comfort out in the gardens was appreciated.”

“You’re welcome.”

Atemu led him to the stairs and they ascended to the second floor, heading down another hallway. Atemu’s pace was languid, as if he was merely wandering. Seto walked with him at the same pace.

“Considering the way I treated you, I suppose I don’t deserve it.”

“What?”

“The game. It was cruel to play with your emotions.”

Seto wasn’t sure what to say. “It’s fine.”

“The truth was, I have never done that before, with anyone else. When I first met you at the Costume Ball… It was exciting and the idea suddenly came to me. I didn’t… I suppose I acted that way because I didn’t want to find out that you were like every other pathetic social climber in the kingdom. I am so tired of those snobs, those people who smile to each others’ faces and stab each others’ backs.”

Seto nearly mentioned Yuugi at that moment, but Atemu went on and he stayed silent.

“I suppose I thought that if I didn’t know your name, and didn’t give you mine, if I kept it as distant as possible, then it might be different. When you saw my face and didn’t know who I was, I was surprised, but thrilled, thinking this might be different after all. You were different. It was quickly clear that you *weren’t* some social climbing fool like all of the others. It was refreshing. I kept my name from you to keep it that way.”

Seto nodded, ascending another flight of steps with him and turning down another hallway. He was keeping his interest on Atemu, not really paying attention to where they were going. 

“I understand,” he said.

“Yes, I think you do.”

“When I found out who you were, it turned out just like you thought it would.”

“Yes. At first. When you threw me out, I figured it had turned out just like it always does. That position mattered more than anything else. But, then you came to the Christmas Ball. And you didn’t seem to be there just to curry favor or blackmail me.”

“Of course not.”

“I know that now. And when you came to me in the gardens after my father died…” He seemed able to say it more easily now, though there was no mistaking the continued, quiet pain in his voice. “When you came then, I knew it really was different.”

Seto said nothing. He was feeling extremely uncomfortable now. What could he say? 

Atemu stopped in front of a pair of double doors. Seto looked up and realized with a start that they were in front of Atemu’s bedroom doors. Seto looked down at Atemu, who looked back up at him, silent and waiting. Seto swallowed, his discomfort growing to nervousness. 

“Atemu, I--”

Atemu ignored him. He reached out and turned the handle on one of the doors, opening it.

tbc...


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven:

Seto watched as Atemu pushed open the right door that lead into his suite of rooms. His eyes were burning as they stared at him, emotion swirling within them. He backed into the room, silent and watchful, waiting for Seto to respond.

Seto glanced over his shoulder, down the hallway. There was no one present. He looked back at Atemu, who was still standing just inside the doorway. As he looked back at him, Atemu turned away, walking into the room out of sight, leaving the door open. Seto swallowed again and stepped forward, passing through the doorway and shutting it.

Atemu had walked across the lush sitting room and settled himself on the couch before the fire. Seto walked across the room to him. Every step seemed weighted, seemed to take more effort than it should, and he wondered at the depth of nervousness he was experiencing. 

He sat down beside Atemu, looking into the fire rather than at him. Atemu was doing the same, sitting bolt upright on the cushion, hands on his thighs. Silence fell between them and Seto shifted uncomfortably, bunching the material of his trousers in his hands, eyes wandering around the room. It was grandiose and beautiful and cold. 

At last he made himself look at Atemu. The new King was still looking into the fire, his face pensive, downcast. But as Seto gazed upon him, he turned his head. Seto froze, looking into the bright scarlet eyes. Atemu’s face gave away nothing of what he was thinking, and Seto wasn’t sure why he had called him into his room. Surely, he wasn’t…

Atemu reached up and cupped the back of his head, pulling him down. Seto didn’t resist, and their lips met. The kiss was very soft, almost demure. Seto didn’t try to deepen it, only kissing Atemu with the lightest of touches, and when they finally drew apart, Atemu smiled, eyes heavy-lidded and expression tender. Seto stared into his face for a long moment, then leaned forward when Atemu did. They kissed again, still soft and gentle, not without passion. Seto reached up when they broke apart again and brushed Atemu’s long blond bangs behind his ear, the tips of his fingers tracing across his skin. Atemu closed his eyes, enjoying, and Seto leaned in while he was vulnerable and kissed him again. Atemu sighed in pleasure.

Seto broke the kiss and brushed his lips across Atemu’s cheek. Atemu opened his eyes and looked up at him. Seto reached up, cupping his face between his hands. Atemu stared up at him, then reached up and pulled his hands from his face. Holding both, he stood. Seto slowly stood with him. Atemu released his hands and turned away, walking towards his bedroom. Seto stood and watched him, heart stuttering in his chest. He could just walk out, end this, before it went bad, as he knew it would. How could it not?

When Seto passed through the doorway into the bedroom, Atemu was standing at the foot of his bed, waiting for him. Seto wondered if he was imagining the look of nervousness on the King’s face.

Seto slowly closed the door to the bedroom, though the door to the suite’s sitting room was shut. He walked across the room, reaching up to cup his face in his hands again. He bent his head, taking his mouth in a kiss. Atemu immediately kissed him back, hands coming up to rest on Seto’s arms. He parted his lips and Seto responded the unspoken request to slip his tongue inside. Atemu moaned, and a shiver ran up Seto’s spine. He let go of his face and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him flush against him. He felt so good in his arms, pressed close to him.

Seto pulled away and moved his mouth down to his neck, kissing his way down. Atemu arched, letting his head fall back. His arms were crossed now over Seto’s, hands gripping his shoulders backward, hugging him close. Seto lifted his head briefly to view his face, seeing his head tipped back, eyes closed. He looked so beautiful, and so absorbed in the moment. Seto smiled, rubbing his hand lightly along his back over his clothes. Atemu opened his eyes, then drew himself from his embrace. He moved and sat down on the edge of his bed. Seto sat beside him, and they came together in another kiss, laying down on their sides on the bed, making out, unhurried. 

Atemu finally drew away and crawled further up onto the bed. He lay propped up on his elbows, looking down the length of his body at Seto. His red cape was apparently digging into his throat, but he was ignoring it. Seto was propped on his own elbow for a moment, looking him over. Atemu smiled and tilted his head slightly. That was all the invitation Seto needed. He moved, rolling over onto all fours, and crawled slowly up Atemu’s body. Atemu remained on his elbows, meeting his kiss. Seto lay against him, keeping the bulk of his weight on his forearm, his other hand sinking into Atemu’s thick hair, their legs tangled together. 

At last, Atemu began to lay down. Seto went with him, still kissing him, then raised himself on his forearm again, hand going to the clasp holding the cape around Atemu’s throat. He unsnapped it one-handed, relieving his throat of the pressure. The cape spread out on the bed below him. Seto flicked his eyes to his, then began undoing the buttons to his red jacket, undoing the gold belt. He pushed the jacket open where it joined the cape beneath him. Seto then scooted down a little. He put his hand against Atemu’s sides at the waistband of his pants, glancing up at him again. Atemu was merely watching him, waiting, neither encouraging nor discouraging. 

Seto pushed his shirt up, untucking it from his pants, baring his stomach. He bent his head, pressing feathery kisses along the bared abdominals. He gradually pushed the tunic upward, following it with his lips. Atemu trembled under him. 

The shirt was finally pushed up as far as it would go. Atemu sat up a little, reaching down to grasp the hem himself, raising it up and taking it off. He dropped it over the side of the bed, leaving his torso bare to Seto’s eyes as he resumed his propped-on-elbows posture. He watched as Seto leaned forward, pressing a brief kiss to his lips before working his way down his neck. He kissed a path down his chest and stomach to the waistband of his trousers, where he paused again. He looked up, and Atemu was merely watching again.

He was leaving everything up to Seto.

Seto worked the fastenings to his trousers, suppressing a moan when he saw the tent in his undergarments. He got up on his haunches and Atemu pushed his hips upward, allowing Seto to take his pants down as far as possible. Seto got his boots off, and his socks, and then the trousers, leaving Atemu wearing only in his thin white underpants. The bulge of his erection was clear. 

Seto sat up, hands going to his own clothing. Atemu lay back against the sheets, watching with heavily-lidded eyes, as Seto worked all the buttons loose and removed his jacket, vest, and shirt. He pulled off his undershirt, leaving his own chest bare. Not caring to draw this out anymore, he rolled off of Atemu’s legs and got his trousers and boots off, shoving the whole lot of the clothing unceremoniously off the bed, leaving himself in his own underpants, equal to Atemu.

He turned back to the King, rolling back atop him. Atemu returned his kiss, linking his arms around Seto’s neck. He shivered as Seto ran his fingers along his torso, teeth lightly biting Seto’s bottom lip. Seto licked his, then moved down to his neck. He drew his fingers along Atemu’s ribs, scooted down to kiss his stomach, then finally glanced up. 

“Perhaps in the bathroom,” Atemu said.

Seto nodded and slipped from the bed. He crossed the room and entered the bathroom. He pulled the chain to turn on the light, and glanced around. There was a small collection of bottles on the dresser by the wash basin. Seto walked over and examined them, finding one of lotion that would suffice. He picked it up and returned to the bedroom. Atemu was still waiting for him in bed… and he had removed his underpants.

Seto paused in mid-step at that view. Atemu noticed and smirked mischievously. He was lounging on the bed with his head on the pillow, one arm resting on his stomach and the other against the mattress, waiting on him. His erection stood proud against his stomach, hard and clearly aching for attention. Seto’s own throbbed in sympathy.

Completing his journey back to the bed, Seto paused at the edge, setting the bottle on the nightstand beside it. He gripped the waistband of his pants and took them down, stepping out of them and straightening up. Atemu’s eyes traveled Southward and Seto smiled at the darkening of them and the slight intake of breath. 

Though his own nervousness remained, Atemu’s reaction gave Seto more of his confidence back. He crawled up into bed, bending down to kiss Atemu before grabbing the bottle of lotion again. He unscrewed the lid and poured some of the slick substance onto his hand. He glanced at Atemu, who looked back at him intently for a moment, his face contemplative. Then he nodded and shifted position, spreading his legs. Seto moved between them, running his other hand along one. Atemu smiled and closed his eyes. Seto reached down and eased one finger inside. Atemu arched a little, but made no sound. 

He made little reaction to all three fingers, but when Seto finally decided he’d prepared him as fully as he could, had slicked his erection and moved into place, Atemu’s face scrunched up when he began to slide inside him. Regretting it, Seto curled over him, forearms on either side of Atemu’s head as he braced himself, and he bent to kiss his cheek, whispering an apology. He slid in all the way and stopped, feeling Atemu trembling under him, feeling his inner muscles flexing against him as he struggled to relax, heard his quiet breathing as he tried to fight down whatever pain he was experiencing. Seto held perfectly still, lightly kissing his temple and murmuring another apology. 

“It’s fine,” Atemu breathed, not opening his eyes. 

Seto kissed him gently. Atemu kissed him back, wrapping his arms around his neck again. His fingers dug into Seto’s hair, and his legs hooked around his waist. Seto took the unspoken hint and began to thrust, moaning at the tightness. Atemu made a similar noise, his arms tightening around his neck. Seto broke the kiss, repositioning himself for better movement. Atemu cried out, arching against him. Seto groaned in response, kissing Atemu’s cheek, jaw, the corner of his mouth. Atemu panted heavily, eyes still closed, but when he opened them a moment later, they were blazing. Seto stared into his eyes, watching the pleasure raising in them, feeling him squirming against him. The involuntary tightening of his muscles nearly threw Seto over the edge, but he held on, determined to make Atemu come first.

He reached down, grasping Atemu’s erection. The half-strangled yell he received made him smile and he stroked quickly, rubbing the sensitive tip with his thumb. Atemu’s voice went up a bit, his back arched, head thrown back, his hands pressing into Seto’s shoulders. Seto nibbled at his ear, groaning as he felt Atemu’s inner muscles tightening still further, his squirming grinding against him, his cock throbbing in his hand. His moan seemed to be too much for Atemu. The King came with a cry. Seto gasped, then came himself, spilling his seed within him. 

Seto withdrew and rolled off, collapsing on his back beside him. Atemu’s arm was beneath his neck, but neither of them moved; they just lay there, catching their breaths. Seto calmed down slowly, his body tingling with afterglow. Sated, he looked up at the ceiling, thoughts swirling. Now that they were finished, what would Atemu think? 

Seto turned his head to look at him. Atemu had his eyes closed, his face relaxed, his breathing deep and even, but Seto didn’t think he was asleep. Indeed, as if he felt the weight of a gaze upon him, Atemu opened his eyes, then turned his face to Seto. They stared at each other a moment, then Atemu smiled crookedly and leaned forward to peck Seto’s lips. Then he took back his arm, turned over on his side, and pulled the covers up to his shoulders. Seto lay on his back beside him, watching his skin flicker in the firelight.

They’d made love. He’d been contemplating just never seeing Atemu again, and instead they’d gone farther than ever. Farther than they probably should have. What was going to happen now?

Seto studied Atemu’s back again, then turned his head the other way and finally closed his eyes. He drifted off, wondering what the morrow would bring for the both them.

******

Seto was awakened by the sound of piano music. He blinked blurrily, looking around. He was still in Atemu’s bed at the palace, but Atemu was not. Sure he knew where the music was coming from, Seto sat up. He climbed out of bed and grabbed his trousers from the floor. He put them on, then padded barefoot and bare-chested in search of the sound. Out in the sitting area, he looked around by the aid of the fireplace’s dying light, and saw the piano in the corner. 

Atemu sat on the bench, almost shrouded in darkness, playing the soft melody. He also wore only his pants, the air cool in the room, but tolerable. 

Atemu didn’t react to Seto’s presence. He might not even have realized Seto was there. He continued to play, the music a different piece from the one Seto had heard before. It was slow, gentle, meditative. It lacked the undertone of cold fury.

Seto stood and listened a moment, then walked out into the room and to the piano. He turned and sat on the bench beside Atemu, facing backward to the piano. Atemu didn’t pause. Seto sat beside him in silence, hands on the bench, head down-turned, studying the carpet below him while he listened. The piece went on, filled with thought and sadness, slow and sweet. But abruptly, with a jingle of the keys, the melody seemed to register surprise, a pause, and then contentment. The song seemed suddenly, if not happy, then more cheerful than before. It ended with a final, low-key satisfaction, the note hanging in the air before fading away.

Silence fell in the room. Atemu’s hands slid from the keys to his lap. He didn’t look at Seto, eyes on the piano. Seto didn’t look at him either, still looking at the floor between his feet. 

“Do you like it?” Atemu asked softly. 

“Yes.” And then, because that didn’t seem adequate, “It was beautiful.”

Atemu turned his head to look at him. Seto followed suit. Atemu’s night-dark eyes met his, and Seto saw no regret in them. Atemu studied his face, then smiled faintly. Seto leaned sideways and kissed him. Atemu kissed him back willingly, lips soft against his.

They parted. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Atemu murmured. 

“It’s no problem.” 

Atemu placed his hands back on the keys. Seto closed his eyes, listening to the second melody. This was undoubtedly a lullaby, so soft and pleasant and soothing that Seto felt transported from the room, floating on the sound as if on fluffy clouds, or rocked in a boat on gently swelling waves. The lullaby drifted across the scale, Atemu’s hands playing skillfully, lightly over the keys. Seto lost track of everything but the music, and when it finally ended with another trailing note, he opened his eyes.

Atemu was sitting and watching him. He was smiling a little, clearly pleased Seto had enjoyed the song. He stood, sliding out from behind the bench, then briefly rested his hand on Seto’s shoulder before heading back inside. Recognizing it for the invitation it was, Seto stood and followed him back to bed. He crawled beneath the covers and this time Atemu lay facing him. They drifted off together, content and comfortable.

******

When Seto woke again, it was to wan winter daylight and the delicious scents of breakfast. The King was gone again and the smells of food were coming from the sitting room. 

Seto got out of bed and washed up in the bathroom before dressing and joining Atemu in the living room. Wearing a dressing gown, Atemu sat at a dinette. On the table before him lay a spread of breakfast foods: eggs, bangers and mash, kippers, kedgeree, toast and marmalade, and coffee. 

“Join me,” he said.

Unsure whether it was a request or an order, Seto sat across from him. There were two cups and two plates and two sets of silverware. Seto wondered if the kitchen staff wondered about that.

Seto served himself from the dishes and began to eat. He wasn’t sure what to say, which seemed to be a common occurrence with Atemu. Atemu didn’t seem concerned. He ate in silence himself, focused on his food. But at last he raised his gaze to Seto.

“I had one of the guards tell your driver that you--and some other guests--were staying over for the occasion and sent him on to the inn.”

Seto had forgotten entirely about his driver. He might also have not thought to include that other guests were staying to take focus of seeming favor of himself. He wasn’t sure when Atemu had done this, but it was good that he had.

“I’m sorry to hurry you along, Seto,” Atemu said eventually, “but I must get ready. There are parliamentary meetings to attend.”

Seto nodded in understanding. He needed to go as well. Mokuba would be worried about him. Seto had not been intending to stay the night at the palace.

Atemu’s eyes flicked up to his, as if he had heard his thoughts. They held gazes for a moment, then Seto leaned down and kissed him. Atemu smiled when he straightened again. “Safe journey home.”

Seto smiled back briefly and left the King’s chamber. There was no one in the common hall or on the stairs. Down on the ground floor, a few people smiled and bowed respectfully, but no one really paid attention to him. He didn’t see Yuugi or Katsuya.

At home, he told Mokuba the same story that Atemu had told the driver. Mokuba believed it, as he knew he would. Atemu’s story seemed plausible, and had been quick, clever, and devious. When he’d told Seto, he’d smiled mischievously, the same smirk he’d had as Prince. And it had been clear to Seto, in that instant, that the rascal with the flashing red eyes was not completely gone in this new day.

tbc...

A/N: Reviews are always appreciated.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve:

Over the next few days, Seto thought long and hard about what had happened between Atemu and himself. This was one of those events that seemed insignificant at first, but soon could prove of great consequence. But whenever Seto thought about it, when he told himself he should, he pictured Atemu’s face, and didn’t regret it at all.

Seto was in his office when a throat-clearing made him look up. He jerked to his feet in surprise, sending his wheeled chair back several feet in his haste.

Atemu stood in the doorway, looking amused. He wore much what he had before he’d become King; a pair of black trousers with a black vest over a white shirt and a long black coat to ward off the winter cold. His red-banded black hat looked like the exact same one he’d left there in the music room the previous autumn. 

“Forgive the lack of announcement,” he said. “I asked your butler to let me surprise you.”

“Atemu! What… What are you doing here?”

“Is that any way to greet a guest?” Atemu asked with mock offense, though his eyes glittered. “You really should accept Lady Alexandra’s invitations more often, Seto. You might learn some proper manners.”

Seto didn’t know how Atemu knew about Alexandra’s campaign to make Seto a social butterfly, and chose to ignore it. Instead, he slid shut the drawer he’d been sifting through and crossed the room. “If you want to talk about manners, Your Highness, walking uninvited into someone’s home without reason isn’t displaying good ones either.”

Atemu smiled, but said, “Don’t call me that.”

“What are you doing here?” Seto repeated. He was trying to ignore the pleasant feeling in his chest at the sight of him. 

“I came to see you,” Atemu said seriously, without any implication of missed obviousness. 

Seto tried to ignore the increase in the pleasant sensation at those words. “Ah,” he said awkwardly. “Would you like to sit down? A drink, perhaps?”

Atemu seemed to find him very amusing. “Yes, please, to both.” 

Seto grunted and walked from the study. Atemu followed him to the parlor, where Seto left him before going to find Mrs. Galley and order some tea and biscuits. She was so efficient at her job that she had the tea and biscuits ready almost as soon as Seto had rejoined Atemu in the parlor. She was so self-possessed that the fact that she was serving the King of England didn’t fluster her one bit. She curtsied and left the room after setting the silver tray down on the table between them.

Seto poured a cup of the sweet, hot tea for Atemu and held it out on a saucer for him. Atemu accepted it, using the tongs to grab a couple cubes of sugar out of the sugar bowl and drop them in. Seto poured himself a cup and set it on its saucer without taking a sip, searching for something to say. 

“How…How have you been?” he finally said lamely.

Atemu was blowing gently on his tea. He took a sip and set the cup back into the saucer in his other hand. “I’ve been fine,” he said, eyes still on the tea. “And yourself?”

“Fine,” Seto agreed. He started to try another pathetic attempt, when Atemu interrupted him.

“Do you regret it?”

Seto closed his mouth, looking at Atemu across the table. Atemu was still looking into the cup of tea he held, as if looking for his fortune in the amber liquid. 

“No.”

Atemu raised his eyes to his. Very slowly, a small smile spread across his face. Despite himself, Seto smiled back, briefly. He then looked away and picked up his cup, taking a drink. The silence was not broken and Seto looked back. Atemu was still watching him, holding his cup by its handle in one hand, the saucer in the other. When Seto looked back, he set both down on the table and rose to his feet. Seto immediately felt his pulse rate jump and he set down his cup. Atemu rounded the small table, unhurried, and reached him in his chair. He slid into Seto’s lap, butt planted on his left thigh, legs between his, leaning against his chest. His weight was slight, and he looked up intently into Seto’s eyes.

Seto reached up, brushing his blond bangs back, watching as Atemu smiled, closing his eyes and enjoying the gentle touch as he had before. He leaned forward and kissed him softly. Atemu sighed and kissed him back, his arms wrapping slowly around his neck. Seto wrapped his own around his waist, leaning back as Atemu shifted to straddle his lap. They kissed, Atemu sliding his fingers into Seto’s hair. As they were in his house, Seto was not wearing a hat, and Atemu’s slid off with their movements, falling with a thump beside the leg of the chair.

Seto finally drew back to breathe, shakily, looking up into Atemu’s flushed face. He was all for continuing and seeing where they were headed, but he knew better than to do it where they were. Any moment Mrs. Galley could be back to see if they needed more refreshments. So he pushed at Atemu lightly, urging him up. Atemu slid deftly out of his lap, bending to pick up his hat and place it back on his head with a graceful movement, his eyes twinkling mischievously. 

“What’s the matter, Seto?” he asked softly. “Don’t tell me you’ve lost your taste for adventure.”

“It’s you who had the taste… for recklessness,” Seto retorted.

Atemu’s smile widened. He started walking with Seto as if he had spoken of the intent. “Life would be unbearably dull if I hadn’t developed it.”

“It certainly would have meant I wouldn’t be doing the craziest thing I’ve ever done in my life,” Seto agreed. “Which I’m not sure is a good thing or a bad thing.”

Atemu snorted. “You’re always welcome to show me out.”

“You’ve been here before, you know the way out yourself.”

Atemu sighed as if much put upon. “You really do need to go to Alexandra’s parties, or someone’s, for you have the most atrocious manners of anyone I’ve ever met.”

It was Seto’s turn to snort, and he asked the question he hadn’t earlier. “How do you know about her foolish campaign?”

“Alexandra attempts to set up all the available young men. Even myself.”

Seto smiled at the old woman’s nerve. “Has she? Anyone worthy of the great King of England?”

Atemu scowled, a little more seriously than the banter warranted. “Not in the slightest.”

They had ascended the stairs and Seto turned to the right towards his room. He had no worry of being overseen. At this hour, the daily cleaning and gardening was accomplished and only Mrs. Galley, Mr. Cooper the butler, and Ms. Davies the cook were present in the house, none of whom would be along the route to Seto’s room. 

Seto opened the door and Atemu stepped inside. He had seen Seto’s room before when he’d come to pick up his hat the previous December. Nevertheless, he looked around as he stepped into the room. Seto stepped in after him and shut the door. Immediately Atemu turned around at the sound and came to him. Seto groaned as his back hit the closed door and Atemu, on his toes, claimed his mouth. Seto wound his arms around his waist, helping to brace him. The hat hit the floor again. They’d have to remember to take them off before they started kissing.

Atemu started walking backward, his hands going down to Seto’s on his waist. Seto walked with him, the pair of them still kissing and walking without looking. Abruptly Atemu yelped and was jerked away. He’d hit the steam trunk at the foot of the bed and sat down hard on it as his legs folded out from under him. Seto laughed, reaching out and pulling him to his feet as he glared at him. 

“You should watch where you’re going,” he said.

“You shouldn’t distract me,” Atemu replied, as if it had been all Seto’s fault. 

Seto led Atemu around to the side of the bed. They stopped, still standing, and went back to kissing. Seto pushing Atemu’s jacket from his shoulders and caught it before it fell, throwing it haphazardly onto a chair by the window. The tie was next, slipping from Seto’s hands and sliding from around Atemu’s neck and hitting the floor, ignored. Seto started unbuttoning Atemu’s shirt, even though his vest was still on, working his way downward with each button, mouth still claimed by Atemu’s. Their tongues twisted around each other, Atemu’s hands wandering up and down Seto’s shoulders and arms as every button came undone. At last the vest and shirt were both undone. Seto broke the kiss and pushed the garments off, catching and throwing them again without taking his eyes off Atemu. He was just as beautiful the second time, the pale winter sunlight streaming through the window onto his smooth skin, making his multi-colored hair gleam. 

“Your turn,” he said, sending a shiver up Seto’s spine.

Seto slid off his jacket and threw it with Atemu’s clothes. Atemu’s hands were already unknotting his bowtie, letting the ends go once it was untied, leaving it unwound across Seto’s shoulders. The vest came off. Atemu pulled his shirt from his pants and started on the buttons, from bottom to top. When the last one slipped loose, Atemu pushed the shirt off. Seto let it fall to his wrists and then took it off, throwing it to the growing pile of clothing. Atemu’s eyes wandered along his torso, then he stepped forward again, reaching up to cup Seto’s face. They kissed again, the feel of skin to skin driving a spike of lust through Seto’s body. He maneuvered them to sit awkwardly on the edge of the bed before they tilted sideways to lay down. Atemu didn’t stay that way for long, rolling on top of Seto and straddling his waist, kisses firm and insistent. Seto groaned, running his hands down his back, then broke the kiss to work on his neck. Atemu tilted his head to the side, bracing himself against Seto’s chest, erection jabbing him in the abdomen through their pants. 

“Mmm. Enough.” Atemu sat up, then slid off Seto onto the bed. He started on the fastenings to his pants. Seto sat up on his elbow and watched, smirking as Atemu tried to toe off his boots at the same time he was undoing the buttons to his pants. Seto grabbed one foot, unlaced the boot.

The boots hit the wooden floor with twin thumps and the pants and underpants with a soft whump. Completely naked, Atemu was glorious. He started to go for the fastenings to Seto’s pants, but Seto stopped him, grabbing both of his hands and lifting them. When Atemu raised his head in question, Seto kissed him, letting go of his hands in favor of his waist and pushing him down. From lips to jaw, from jaw to neck to chest and stomach, Seto followed a meandering path down his body. 

Atemu was quivering by the time Seto reached his navel.

Seto hesitated there a moment, thinking, brushing his lips lightly along the skin, enjoying Atemu’s tremors. At last he decided and descended lower, flicking his tongue against Atemu’s erection. The startled gasp made him smirk. He put his hands against Atemu’s hips and pressed them against the bed, then ran his tongue against his cock again. Atemu moaned, squirming against the bed beneath Seto’s hold. Seto experimentally took the tip into his mouth, sucking gently. He enjoyed the way Atemu shuddered, his breathless gasps, the way his muscles bunched and flexed beneath Seto’s hands. 

Seto swallowed down a little more, sucking more intensely as Atemu writhed in pleasure. He dug the tip of his tongue beneath the edge of the head and Atemu made a breathy scream, his hips jerking futilely against Seto’s hold. Seto eased off, ignoring Atemu’s disappointed noise. He sat up, watching Atemu for a moment. The King lay on his back with his eyes closed, glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, breathing raggedly. He was beautiful. 

Seto bent and kissed him roughly before pulling back and sliding off the bed. He walked into his bath chamber, rummaging through the drawer before finding a serviceable bottle of lotion. He walked back into the bedroom, setting it down on the mattress and shimmying out of the rest of his clothes. Atemu smiled as he rejoined on him on the bed, sitting up when he came closer. He urged Seto onto his back, leaning over him, propped up on his elbow. His hand caressed Seto’s cheeks as he smiled down at him, then he leaned down and kissed him gently. Seto kissed him back, allowing his tongue to dart inside his mouth. Then it was his turn to lay back as Atemu started down his body. His warm fingers trailed slowly along his skin, followed by his lips. His long bangs tickled when he moved.

Seto closed his eyes, unable to stop himself squirming a bit as Atemu’s mouth slid across his stomach. He didn’t want to be teased anymore, so he reached down and pulled Atemu up by his arms, kissing him hard then twisting him over and putting him on his back again. Atemu didn’t protest, kissing him back. 

The kiss was broken and Seto sat up, reaching for the bottle of lotion. Atemu shifted and smiled, waiting. Seto lay on his side beside him and put his hand on his thigh, sliding slowly up the inside. Atemu closed his eyes. The preparation made him sigh and moan so softly that Seto almost didn’t hear him, and it made his blood pound in his veins all the harder. 

Their joining was even sweeter the second time. Atemu would his arms and legs around him, holding him close, pulling him into him like he didn’t want to let him go. Seto groaned, kissing him, beginning to thrust. 

Their rhythm was easier, even and fluid as they worked together, already familiar with each other. Atemu’s moans were muffled when he buried his face against Seto’s shoulder, his fingers digging in. Seto hissed, shifting a little for a better brace, increasing the pace as pleasure raced along his nerves. Atemu’s legs tightened against his hips in response. He tossed his head back when Seto reached down to grasp his erection, the expression of rapture on his face too much for Seto. He grunted, stiffening, forehead pressed into the pillow as ecstasy jolted him. Beneath him, Atemu cried out softly, back arching, following him over the edge a heartbeat later.

They collapsed, panting and trembling, Seto falling to the side but remaining tangled up with Atemu. Seto had not been expecting to sleep with Atemu again so soon, if at all, and new this was dangerous and crazy. And he liked it. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked at him. Atemu had turned his head and was looking back at him. He smiled before moving forward to kiss Seto lightly. When he drew back, he smiled again. 

For a moment he looked like he wanted to say something, but then he seemed to decide against it. Instead, he tucked his head under Seto’s chin. Seto wrapped his arm around his waist, the pair of them still wound together, looking out of the window to the sky. The wan winter sunlight was fading and Atemu would have to leave soon to get back to the palace before dark. 

It was still twenty minutes later before either of them got around to moving. It felt so good to lay in bed, tangled together, Atemu’s warm body pressed against his, the feel of him breathing beneath his arm. But eventually they untangled and cleaned up and redressed. Seto led Atemu back downstairs to the front door, ready to say goodbye even though inside he knew he didn’t want to.

“You’re a terrific chess player, Seto,” Atemu said abruptly, startling Seto. “I haven’t had so great an opponent in a long time.”

The butler was nearby, waiting to be called on. Seto stared into Atemu’s eyes, seeing the familiar devious gleam. He lied so effortlessly that it sounded entirely genuine. Mutely, Seto nodded, too caught off guard to think of a coherent response.

“In a fortnight, I’m having a skating party on the lake in the gardens,” Atemu said. “Will you come?”

His expression was serious now. He knew perfectly well how much Seto hated social events, and Seto wasn’t sure why he was inviting him. But as he studied Atemu’s face, he nodded.

“Of course, I will.”

******

Seto stepped out of his carriage onto the walk in front of the shop where he and Mokuba would be shopping for replacement supplies and uniform pieces for Mokuba to take back to school with him after the weekend. Mokuba stepped out behind him and the carriage trundled off. Mokuba stepped ahead of him to the familiar, high-end shop, reaching out for the door’s handle.

“Kaiba!”

Both he and Mokuba stopped and Seto felt his heart sink. Katsuya was striding purposefully towards them, alone. Unlike before, he was wearing his constable uniform, officer’s cap included, badge gleaming on his chest. Seto stopped and waited, dreading the encounter. It was sure to be unpleasant.

“A word?” Katsuya asked, though he reached out and grabbed Seto’s arm. His fingers squeezed.

“Seto?” Mokuba, standing in the doorway of the shop, sounded uncertain.

“It’ll be just a minute,” Katsuya said to him, voice affable. He smiled winningly at Mokuba. “Your brother and I were mates in school, and I just wanted a quick chat. Why don’t you get on into the warm? I won’t keep him for long.”

Seto swallowed his indignation and strove to keep his voice even. “Go on, Mokuba. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Mokuba disappeared into the shop and immediately Katsuya pulled Seto towards the nearest alley. Seto wrenched his arm from his grasp, but went willingly otherwise. There were too many people on the sidewalk to witness an altercation. 

The second Seto stepped into the alleyway, Katsuya grabbed his arm, pulling and twisting him back against the brick wall. Seto grunted, then glared. Katsuya let go of his arm, but he remained in his personal space, brown eyes narrowed.

“Listen here, Kaiba,” he growled. “I’m done playing nice. You’re hanging ‘round the palace an awful lot. You’re up to something.”

“Am I?” Seto asked. He straightened to his full height, looking down at him, keeping his voice calm and his expression condescending. “I could say the same thing about you.”

Katsuya’s eyes narrowed even more and he frowned, pausing slightly. “What do you mean by that?”

Seto smiled. “Oh, nothing.”

He started to push past him, but Katsuya pushed him back. As Seto glared at him again, he stiffened, feeling the hard press of a gun barrel against his stomach. Katsuya, his eyes as cold and hard as stone, stared at him silently for a second before speaking.

“I don’t like it when people don’t take me seriously,” he said. “Because I am very serious. Stay the hell away from the palace. It’s for your own good. Or you might find yourself… suspected… for certain things.”

Seto got the point quite clearly. Katsuya was threatening to blame him for crimes he’d never committed.

tbc...

A/N: I know, another lemon was too fast, but what can I say? Infatuation runs hot.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen:

Seto stared down into the cold brown eyes, his back against the brick wall and the gun shoved against his ribs. Katsuya stared back at him, waiting, apparently, for him to break the silence first. Aware that Mokuba was waiting on him in the shop, Seto reluctantly forfeited the game of nerves.

“Understood.”

“Good,” Katsuya said. “Now I want to know what you meant a minute ago.”

Seto should have kept his mouth shut. He didn’t know what sort of mischief or worse Yuugi had planned for his dear cousin, but Seto suddenly wondered if this was much more than merely being a prat. If that were so, now was the time to have Katsuya think he knew less than he did.

“Just meant your little game with the prince, I mean, *King* Atemu.” Seto deliberately stressed the new title. “Making everyone stay away from him, alienating him. Whatever little row Yuugi has with him, it’s childish.”

Katsuya’s gaze remained suspicious, but he seemed to relax a little. The gun was suddenly gone, back in his holster. “It’s nice you want to be mates like your dads were,” he said with a sneer. “But I told you. It’s best for you that you stay away.” He hesitated, then added, “The King ain’t who you think he is.”

Frowning, Seto asked, “What do you mean by that?”

Katsuya shook his head, then suddenly turned fierce again. “Nothing. Just back off. What do you care anyway? You only met him last autumn, right?”

Katsuya moved away and swiftly walked back to the mouth of the alley. He tipped his hat to a pair of passing ladies, turned to the right, and was gone. Seto stepped from the wall, straightening his jacket. He walked to the end of the alley and looked to the right, but Katsuya was gone among the few people who were out shopping despite the cold. He turned to the left and entered the warm, pleasantly scented shop, looking for Mokuba. He found him at a rack of neckties. Behind him, an attendant was already laden with school uniforms and a new pair of shoes. 

“There you are,” Mokuba said, replacing a bowtie that was an ugly shade of green. “How was your chat? You’ve never mentioned… actually, he never said his name.”

“We aren’t really that good of friends,” Seto said dryly.

Mokuba turned to look him in the face. Seto looked back at him passively, determined Mokuba would know nothing about any of this. “Are you almost finished?” he asked.

Mokuba handed the attendant two red ties, then waved his hand. “Yeah, I’m done.”

Seto followed him up to the counter and paid. Just as he was ready to head out, Mokuba stepped up to the counter. Seto realized he was holding something in his hand and when he set it down upon the counter, Seto saw that it was a delicate glass swan, with frosted color on the head, wingtips, and tail tip, a pale pink color. Rose colored.

Seto stood silently as Mokuba paid for the gift for his girlfriend. When Mokuba was finished, he thanked the merchant and turned away, passing Seto without looking at him or speaking.

******

The wind was blustery on the day of the skating party. Seto spent much of the morning searching for his misplaced letter opener to go through that day’s post before giving up. There didn’t appear to be anything pressing he needed to review anyway, but the loss annoyed him. His household staff was impeccable and would never remove or dispose of something without his knowledge. The letter opener, like the ring he now always wore, had belonged to his father and bore the family seal. To get another, he’d have to send away special order and he didn’t like the idea of the wasted money.

Bundled up against the cold, he made the trip to the castle with Mokuba and Rose. An invitation had turned up the previous week, formally inviting both Kaiba brothers, and Mokuba had invited Rose along. The two teenagers had a pair of skates each, but Seto hadn’t bothered to bring any. He didn’t skate.

Mokuba had already given Rose the glass swan, which he’d reported she’d liked very much. Even then she was wearing the locket. 

The snow was again thick on the ground, and was falling lazily from the sky when they pulled up to the palace.

Rather than being led through the palace, they were directed along a well-kept little path that led around the side and joined up into one of the gardens. This garden was merely rows of meticulously trimmed, waist-height hedges surrounding another of the large, impressive fountains. Beyond the hedge garden, further out along the grounds, was the pond. It was frozen over, surrounded by barren trees, cement benches, and a scattering of men and women. Three large bonfires had been built along the edge of the pond, and most people were clustered around these, sipping hot tea and cocoa that was being heated in metal kettles over the fires. A few people were skating along the pond in twos or threes. Seto noticed a portion of it, off-center but still over deep water, was roped off, likely a place where the ice wasn’t thick enough to support the weight of multiple skaters.

At first Seto didn’t see Atemu, but then he spotted him at the distant bonfire across the pond, bundled up against the vicious cold, talking with a few people Seto didn’t know. Seto waited to go over to him, scanning the crowd for Yuugi or Katsuya. The constable he didn’t see, but he at last located Yuugi, who was out on the ice, skating with the little blond woman that Seto believed was named Catherine. She was wrapped in a fur shawl, muffs, and fur-lined coat, laughing merrily at something Yuugi had said, her cheeks as likely pink from happiness as the cold. Seto wondered what she would say if she knew Yuugi’s doings with Katsuya. 

Seto smiled thinly.

He walked across the pond towards Atemu and his group, leaving Mokuba and Rose with a group of kids their age at another fire, being overseen by a pair of grown women. 

As he approached, he noticed that Lady Helen was one of the ones with Atemu, and she noticed him before anyone else. A smile spread across her face.

“Hello, Mr. Kaiba!” she said brightly.

“Hello, Lady Helen,” Seto responded, as the group turned to look at him. He stopped and bowed briefly to Atemu. “Your Highness.”

He saw a split second narrowing of Atemu’s eyes before the King smiled. “Seto, welcome.”

“Would you like a cocoa?” Lady Helen asked.

“No, thank you.”

The topic of conversation changed to politics and Lady Alexandra’s daughter’s wedding. Alexandra was reportedly ill and none of her family was present. Lady Helen assured the group that Alexandra was quick on the mend and supposedly even then helping to organize the wedding that would take place in April with the coming of spring. The ladies turned to chatting about details of the wedding, while the men moved on to the current hot topic of the day: The abolition of the Corn Laws. It was a major issue and was causing quite the split among the masses. 

“I’m against it!” one of the men roared. “If that happens, us landowners are going to see some major problems.”

Some of the other men nodded. 

“Free trade is the way to go,” another countered. “We can’t support ourselves on just what our country provides, not anymore, and these tariffs are so expensive, importing is way down. Once these Laws are abolished, corn will be much less expensive.”

A few others nodded.

“But when people are getting corn cheap, they won’t need to pay their laborers as much,” the first man responded.

“Yeah,” a third man agreed.

“That’s not your concern,” the second man countered. “You don’t care a whit about the common man. If corn is cheaper, people will have more money, and then they can buy other things.”

“Fair point,” another man said.

“It’ll put farmers out of work,” the first man retorted.

“Farming is going by the wayside anyway,” Lady Helen said suddenly, turning from the women to the men. “Look around! We have the railcar, the steam engine, the telegraph… Surely someday we’ll have technology to making all the old farming processes obsolete.”

There was a pause, the whole group listening now. Then the first man, who was against the repeal, gave Lady Helen a condescending smirk. “Do you think so, my dear? Machine replace man, its creator?”

Lady Helen didn’t rise to his obvious disdain. “Our current methods are already more advanced than past cultures. Less people are needed to do things like irrigating and harvesting from centuries, or even mere decades, ago.”

“A good point, little lady,” the second man said, winking at her. “You’re for the repeal?”

Lady Helen nodded. The second man smiled, as did most of the rest, but the first man glared at her and said snidely, “Well, it’s not a woman’s opinion what matters.”

Atemu lifted his head and speared the man with a furious red-eyed glare. “That’s enough of that.”

The man paled and bowed his head. “My apologies, Your Majesty.” Then, a trifle stiffly, “And to you, my Lady.”

Helen ignored his rudeness. Instead, she changed the subject, turning to Atemu. “Would you skate with me, King?”

Atemu looked surprised, but to Seto’s surprise, he agreed, if reluctantly. Trying to suppress a smirk of amusement, Seto watched as Atemu followed Lady Helen down to a large log that was placed precisely on the edge of the frozen pond, where rows of skates were laying in pairs, apparently for anyone’s use. Seating herself delicately on the log, the Lady somehow managed to put on and lace up the skates despite her corset and skirts. Atemu put on a pair of skates himself and stood; the log was so close to the edge of the pond that the blades of the skates were already on the ice. He held his hand out to Helen, who took it and rose, sliding a couple of inches out onto the ice as she pushed herself away from the log. They linked arms and started off among the other skaters. 

Seto moved away from the bonfire and the group and stood closer to the lake edge. As Atemu and Helen skated across the pond, Seto searched out his brother. Mokuba and Rose were still among their group of friends, both holding cocoas and chatting. Content with his location, Seto looked back out on the ice. Atemu and Helen were farther away, though they had turned and were sliding around the curve of the oval-shaped lake. Another patch of multicolor caught Seto’s eye. Yuugi and Catherine, on Seto’s side, and going in the opposite direction. As they passed, Seto saw Yuugi turn his head and glare at him briefly, before looking back across the ice at his cousin. However he didn’t stop and he and Catherine continued on. As they neared the right far side of the pond, Yuugi steered Catherine away from the roped off area and cut across. They skated to the edge and left the ice.

Seto looked back at Atemu and Helen. They had rounded the far curve and were coming back. Helen slid a little, clutched Atemu’s arm with a wide-eyed look, then laughed when she steadied. Atemu smiled.

“They sure look happy,” Seto heard one of the women behind him say. 

“They always do,” another said. “Lady Helen’s been with Atemu since he was just a baby. Closer than two peas in a pod, they are.”

“They’d make a nice couple if she was more his age,” a third agreed. “Pity. He’s never shown much interest in anyone else, has he?”

“He just hasn’t met the right woman,” another said. It was obvious from her tone she thought that was a minor problem. 

“Are you women gossiping about that again?” one of the men said suddenly, laughing. 

“Of course they are,” another said, sighing. “My wife, gossiping all day long. You’d think they’d find something else to occupy them.”

“What, like you men don’t gossip?” the second woman retorted. “These men, they think just because they’re men, their talking isn’t gossip.”

The ladies tittered. Seto groaned inwardly and walked away. He circled around the pond, heading vaguely towards Mokuba and Rose without any real intention of joining them. As he was walking, noise drew his eye. A line of Atemu’s servants was making its way along the path to the pond. They bore plates and silverware, cloth napkins and glasses, great silver tureens with lids and steaming kettles. They were headed to something Seto hadn’t noticed before through the half-dead trees-- a tent pavilion. As the guests watched, the table under the tent was set up and tureens and dinnerware placed upon it. Realizing that an actual finger food feast had been set up outside, the guests began making their way over. Those on the ice left it and changed skates for shoes. Everyone trooped back up to the garden which, despite the dead-looking bushes, had a certain charm laden with snow and ice. 

Under the temporary shelter, sausages, kippers, meat- and mince-pies, scones, tarts, and more hot cocoa were served. Guests filled their plates and stood around, eating awkwardly and laughing. It was unusual, and not altogether proper manners, but no one seemed to mind.

“Here, Seto.”

Mokuba was balancing two plates. Reluctantly, Seto took one, though he hadn’t intended to eat. Rose was with Mokuba, holding her own plate that contained only a single treacle tart on it. 

“Enjoying yourselves?” Seto asked them.

Mokuba nodded. “We’re going to go out on the ice later, if that’s okay.”

Seto nodded, his eyes sweeping the crowd. He noticed that Catherine was now without Yuugi, chatting with some other women. Figuring that he must have split to talk with some men, Seto scanned the rest of the gathering, but the only tri-colored hair sticking out from under a hat he saw was Atemu’s. Seto looked around the surrounding area and back up the path to the palace, but Yuugi was gone. 

“Mister Kaiba, are you looking for someone?” Rose asked. 

“No.”

Having satisfied himself that Yuugi really wasn’t with them any longer, he started to turn his attention back to his brother and his girlfriend when movement drew his attention. Despite their lack of foliage, the stands of trees were still relatively thick and he could only partially see the lake down the hill, through the still-gently falling snow. By the time he had fully focused on the lake, whatever he had seen was gone, but he continued to study the area, and his scrutiny resulted in once again seeing movement. Only a partial, darkly-colored form, but he could see it clearly enough to know it was a person wearing a winter cloak complete with hood. Down by the lake, it was probably one of the palace servants, adding fuel to the bonfires so they would not burn down, as the skating party was far from over. Even as Seto watched, the figure moved out of sight behind the thickness of the tree trunks and did not reappear; as Seto could see less than a third of the lake, this was not a surprise.

“Seto, do you want anything more to eat?” Mokuba asked.

Seto turned back to his brother, dismissing the attendant down by the lake. “No, I’ve had enough.”

People were already starting back down to the lake. Mokuba and Rose had finished their own food, so Seto set down his unfinished plate on the table and went to follow. Helen and Atemu, most of the group who had been discussing Anne’s wedding and the Corn Laws, and several others were ahead of them. About half of the entire party remained at the table beneath the pavilion. 

Rose and Mokuba donned their skates upon reaching the lake and started out on the ice. Helen had apparently talked Atemu into some more skating, for they were also out on the ice, along with only a small handful of others. The rest remained on the shore, crowding around the bonfires that were indeed still blazing brightly. 

Standing with his back to one, Seto watched Mokuba and Rose out on the ice. He was Rose’s chaperone here, so he at least half-heartedly made the effort. Mokuba was good at skating, as the extensive Kaiba property had two natural lakes on it, but Rose was dreadful. She was a city girl, born and raised in London, and had only ever been skating once, according to Mokuba. It showed, for she clutched Mokuba’s arm tightly and wobbled like a toddler. Mokuba didn’t seem to mind as he laughed and teased her good-naturedly while supporting her and trying to teach her how to glide her feet without lifting them. Their actions had drawn the eye of several of the ladies behind Seto, who were audibly cooing over the “darling couple.”

“Mr. Kaiba, your brother is turning into such a fine young man,” one of the women said, dragging Seto unwillingly into the conversation. Seto muttered noncommittally. “Rose’s family is in fine standing, fine standing indeed,” she went on. 

Seto bit his tongue against insulting the woman. The children were fourteen years old. If the relationship survived the separation coming and resumed during summer break, then he would be impressed. 

Atemu and Helen, making a full circuit of the ice near the edge, passed by, Atemu looking a trifle impatient now. Seto grinned to himself, before suddenly realizing that Yuugi was back with the group. He was with Catherine out on the ice, just beyond Mokuba and Rose, the pair of them arm-in-arm and making a lazy line across the frozen lake. Seto frowned at him, wondering when he’d gotten there. Wondering where he’d gone. Perhaps a private moment.

Still wobbling, Rose squealed as she nearly fell down, drawing Seto’s attention. Mokuba tried to support her, then nearly fell himself as she pulled him off-balance. 

“Oh, dear!” one of the women at the bonfire exclaimed. “They’re going to fall!”

“No, they’re not,” Seto said with a sigh, but walking closer to the lake anyway.

Mokuba did not fall. He got his balance again, helping Rose to steady, then turned with her back to the shore. They left the ice, Mokuba trying to deflect Rose’s apologies for wanting to stop. Seto stood beside the bench as they sat and removed their skates, ready to ask them if they were ready to go. 

A sharp, oddly warped crack echoed off the trees, stopping every conversation and drawing every eye as a high scream punctuated the sudden boom of sound. Couples on the ice froze awkwardly as they tried to see where the sound had come from.

Across the lake, about twenty feet from the barrier signifying thin ice, was where the sound had come from. With a jolt of horror, Seto saw that a couple had fallen through the ice. 

Helen and Atemu.

Screams and shouts confirmed that everyone else had seen. People started running around the edge of the lake, though the hole was at least fifteen feet from shore at its closest point. Amid floating pieces of ice, Atemu was hanging onto the edge of the ice, only his head, shoulders, and arms visible. Helen was no where to be seen.

“They’ve fallen through!”

“Someone help them!”

“Where’s Lady Helen?”

“My King!”

“Somebody grab him!”

A few of the male skaters and several of the men from the lake shore were tentatively approaching. Atemu was trying to pull himself up, but the splash of water from the fall had soaked the ice and was not only making it slick, but was making his gloves and sleeves stick as it began to freeze and his feet had no purchase to push against. 

A second, softer but still ominous, crack shot off the trees. Everyone froze and several long cracks appeared in the ice around where Atemu was hanging on. 

“Stop!” someone shouted.

“It’ll give!”

“Everyone stop!” Seto snapped, having run around the edge of the lake to where he was closest to where Atemu was clutching the ice. “You’ll make it break and fall through! Back up!”

“But he’ll freeze!”

“Back up!” another man retorted.

Reluctantly, those that had been trying to get closer to Atemu started backing up. Seto hesitantly stepped out onto the ice, watching where he was going rather than Atemu. About halfway between the shore and where Atemu was still trying to scrabble up, Seto sank down onto his knees and crawled across to distribute his weight more. On the other side, another man was doing the same, not as close to Atemu as Seto was, but still attempting to reach him. 

“Seto!”

Mokuba had come out onto the ice, several feet out from Seto, and down on his knees as well. The smaller’s lighter weight was probably better than Seto’s, but he still wanted to shout at him for being out here. Instead, he merely determined how close he was to where Atemu had managed to haul himself out half a foot, his body from the waist down still submerged in the freezing water. Even from where he was, he could hear the red-eyed man’s shivering breath and chattering teeth. 

Another man appeared in Seto’s tunneled field of vision. Yuugi, between Mokuba and the man directly across from Seto, was closest of all to Atemu now. He still had his skates on, and Seto believed he had skated in close, then sunk to his knees and slid. Another crack spread from the hole in the ice to Yuugi, but he didn’t flinch away, reaching out for his cousin. Seto inched closer and reached out, managing to grab under Atemu’s right arm. He started to pull, but the increased pressure against the ice as he tried to brace both of their weights caused more cracks and ominous booms from the ice. 

“Stop,” Yuugi snapped. “Wait until I get there.” 

He reached out and grabbed Atemu’s left wrist, then leaned back on his haunches as he hauled. Seto pulled himself, then gasped as his right hand broke through, plunging his arm in up to the shoulder. Icy water soaked instantly through his glove and began to penetrate the sleeves of his winter coat and suit jacket, even before he pulled his arm back out.

“Seto!” Mokuba called again.

“Get his ankles!”

Seto felt hands on his ankles. Others, forming a chain from the shore to where he was still kneeling on the ice, holding Atemu’s right arm but not daring to pull anymore. People were out on the ice, holding the ankles or calves of the person in front of them. The man directly across from Seto was sliding back, knowing there was too much distance between the shore and Atemu on his side for him to be any help. Mokuba, too, had paused, so that only Yuugi and Seto had holds on Atemu.

Atemu’s face was stark white, his lips blue, eyes half-lidded and glassy. He didn’t even look afraid anymore, but sleepy. Knowing he was starting to freeze through, Seto put his hand down again against the ice and pulled. Yuugi hauled on Atemu’s arm, backing up on his knees, and between them, inch by inch, Atemu slid out of the water, the ice tearing fibers from his coat and pants as he came. Shifting their grips on him as he came out, they managed to haul his legs clear, then Yuugi let go and started crawling backwards and at an angle towards the shore before standing up and skating off. The ice was still creaking as Seto turned Atemu onto his back, put his arm around his chest under his arms like a man holding another from drowning, and started backing up himself, the people holding his ankles shifting with him as they backed off.

The entire time, Seto hadn’t seen a sign of Helen. 

Inching along the ice, Seto finally reached the shore, picking Atemu up in his arms and stepping off the ice onto land. People crowded before others attempted to shove them back.

“Get him inside!”

“Is he breathing?” someone near the back shouted. 

Seto could feel Atemu shivering like a leaf in wind in his arms, his teeth making a staccato beat, his breath making wavering puffs of white mist in the air. Seto started hurrying back to the path that led to the palace, realizing after a moment that Atemu was trying to talk through his chattering teeth.

“H-H-Helen,” Atemu gasped. 

Seto didn’t answer. He could hear people behind him calling to each other as they tried to find the woman, some, from the sound of it, braving the ice. He didn’t pause, just running along the path with a bunch of people in front and behind him, most shouting for help from the palace.

Guards ran down to them as they neared the palace, then backtracked and opened the doors. Seto hurried into the first room that opened off the entrance they’d entered, seeing that it was some sort of entertaining room. A settee sat in the corner and Seto laid Atemu on it, beginning immediately to strip off his wet clothes, even as people crowded in, shouted at each other, or ran off in different directions for things. Atemu was blue, semi-conscious, but still breathing. Ignoring modesty, Seto untied Atemu’s necktie, tore open the buttons on his coat, then his jacket, and finally his shirt and pants. Servants shoved their way through the crowd, bearing blankets, a robe, a pillow, rags, and a pot of steaming water. Someone who must have been a doctor was ordering the servants to use the hot water and the rags to rub down Atemu’s fingers and toes--the areas most in danger of frostbite. Atemu was now in only his under clothing, shaking fiercely and with breath that sounded hollow and rattled in his lungs. Some servants threw no less than three blankets over his midsection while others poured hot water onto the rags, heedless of spillage on the carpet, and wrapped the rags around his hands and feet, rubbing as they attempted to work the circulation back into the digits. 

Seto was only reminded of his own soaked clothes when a maidservant tentatively tried to get his attention, holding out a blanket to him. Mokuba was holding the other end of it, insisting he put it on. He did so distractedly as the physician and the servants worked on Atemu, who was thankfully not shaking as hard and was now white instead of blue. 

People continued to crowd around until one of the maidservants half-hysterically began screaming at them to back off. Holding the blanket around himself, Seto looked around, seeing some of the people from his group at the bonfire; Rose, who was in tears and clutching her locket with both hands in an apparent nervous gesture; Mokuba, who was white with horror rather than cold and practically standing on Seto’s foot as he stayed close to his brother; Catherine, who was also in tears and holding the arm of Yuugi, who had his eyes on his cousin. 

Seto didn’t think he imagined the dark look of anger in those violet eyes.

tbc...

A/N: Long chapter is long.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen:

The palace physician oversaw the warming of the King for about half an hour before he finally ordered the servants to procure a litter and carry Atemu upstairs to his room. Atemu was still out of it, and said nothing from the time Seto had brought him in to the time he was spirited upstairs to recover. The physician went with him, along with most of the servants and guards. The rest of the group was left in the room, under supervision from yet more palace guards, left to mill and gossip. Not that they had long to fret about the King, for those who had stayed behind at the lake to attempt to save Helen returned from the cold, defeated.

The group trudged in, wet and cold, despondent. They were given hot tea and blankets, which they warmed with in front of the fires. Seto joined the rest asking them questions.

“We never found her,” one man said to horrified gasps and an outbreak of weeping. “She must have gone under where the ice was still thick. Water was as murky as fog. Couldn’t see more than a foot down, and where she and the King went through, it’s forty, fifty feet deep.”

“But there were markers where it wasn’t safe,” a woman cried. “Someone was supposed to rope it off. Who was responsible?”

This brought a great deal of dark mutters. Seto knew, whoever had been responsible for testing the ice and placing the markers, they were in a great deal of trouble and would be held accountable. Except he was probably the only one who knew someone had been down by the ice prior to the accident. Had that someone moved the markers?

Seto’s eyes went to Yuugi. The other man was still standing with the distraught Catherine, apparently trying to comfort her. Had he moved the markers? Was it an attempt to kill his cousin? Could his hatred have turned homicidal? But such an attempt would have been reckless, stupid even. There had been many other people out there. Any one of them could have skated that far and fallen through. And Atemu hadn’t been alone and he hadn’t died. Helen had suffered. Did Yuugi not care? Was he so determined to kill his cousin that he’d hurt whoever got in his way?

Or had Helen been the intended target? Yuugi had seemed so determined to set people against Atemu, or to scare them off. Maybe he’d decided more force was in order. Intimidate or kill everyone close to Atemu, until he was alone. And then what? Murder him? Stage a coup?

Yuugi looked up, seeing Seto watching him. He frowned, then patted Catherine’s arm and began leading her away. Seto watched them exit the room, before the conversation occurring drew his attention back. 

“That ice’ll stay ‘til the thaw,” the man who had told them of their failed efforts to save Helen said. “And even when it thaws, that water’s dark and deep. Murky, even at the best of times. We may never find her.”

That brought more crying and muttering. “We should hang the fool who put those markers wrong!” someone shouted. “There were children out there, too!”

Agreeing nods and murmurs met this. Seto was about to tell them what he had seen, but what would come of it? He’d start a panic of suspicion and he wouldn’t be able to offer anything tangible, nothing except that he thought he’d seen someone. Mentioning Yuugi’s absence would only bring anger for accusing Yuugi of wrong-doing without proof. There might even have been someone else who had left and returned that Seto hadn’t noticed. And he’d only gain Yuugi’s anger and certainty that he knew what he was up to. 

If he was up to anything. Seto had no proof. And no real reason to think he had done anything. He’d seen someone at the lake, he was sure of it, but he didn’t know it had been Yuugi. It might indeed have been a servant tending the fires, another guest heading back early, or anyone. If it had been a murder attempt, it had been a bloody stupid one. How would Yuugi have known Atemu and Helen would return to the ice? How would he have known where they were going to skate, or that no one else would get there first? He would be lucky enough to move the markers before others came back and not fall through himself. While it was only happenstance Seto had seen him--if it had been him--and Yuugi might have believed the party would keep everyone’s attention, he couldn’t have known when people would have finished with their food and started back. He could have been caught easily, and even though he wasn’t, again, he’d had no guarantee Atemu would even start skating, let alone go out on the thin ice. Yuugi was not stupid, nor did it seem like he was reckless. So had he done it? Had anyone? Or had it truly been a bad accident that had simply nearly claimed Atemu’s life?

Seto kept his mouth shut. He needed more proof before he even tried to suggest it hadn’t been the servant’s fault, let alone accuse Yuugi. He would tell Atemu and the King would protect the servant. And maybe deal with Yuugi. Somehow.

Still, he’d better make sure anything had even happened before he talked to Atemu. The King would be indisposed for a while while he recovered and Seto really didn’t now the full extent of the relationship of the cousins. It was one thing to despise a relative for a slight. It was another to accept accusations from outsiders. Such a thing brought shame and scandal to a family, and who wanted to believe in murder plots from one’s own kin?

“Mokuba, I want you to stay here with Rose,” Seto said.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to the lake.”

“But--”

“Just stay here,” Seto said firmly. He removed the blanket from his shoulders and handed it to his brother. “I’ll be back soon.”

Seto knew he wasn’t going to be able to leave the room unnoticed. And with Helen dead and Atemu injured, his only palace allies were gone. So it was best not to act like he was being sneaky. He walked big and bold toward the door, but the guard there predictably stopped him.

“Are we under arrest?” Seto asked him pointedly.

“No, sir,” the guard said. “But it’s probably best you stay here, to give your account, sir. Someone’ll be along soon to ask.”

Seto lowered his voice and said, “I need a private moment.”

The guard hesitated, then nodded. “You aren’t under arrest, sir,” he reiterated.

Seto left the room and headed down the hall. There were very few people in the hall. Most of the servants were probably busy tending to the physician and Atemu or else to the hundred or so guests cramped in the room off the hall. Many of the guards were with the guests as well, with Atemu, or at their posts outside and at the gates. Seto walked to the same door he’d brought Atemu in through, and he was stopped again.

“I need to go to the lake,” he said, this time being forthright about it.

“What for?” the guard asked. He was much younger than the other had been, and belligerent. 

“I assume the police will be arriving?” Seto said. “I’ll need to tell them my story.”

“Wait inside with everyone else.”

“But I’ll need to be telling them what I saw, and where,” Seto said. “And I’ll need to show them where, won’t I? The sooner they know, the sooner they can slap the cuffs on the person that did this.”

The guard eyed Seto suspiciously. “How do you know it warn’t no accident?”

“That’s not your concern,” Seto snapped back. “Only that of the police. If you don’t want to aid in the justice for the King, that’s your business, but--”

The guard wasn’t entirely stupid, but he nevertheless hesitated. Seto pressed his advantage, starting for the lake. “I’ll be quick about it,” he said as he walked. “And be right back.”

The guard started to say something, but Seto pretended he didn’t hear and kept walking. Like many people, the guard was taken aback by someone who kept doggedly pushing for what they wanted without pause to policy and authority, lost as to what to do in this particular situation, and Seto was soon out of sight along the garden path. When he glanced back, the guard was following. He turned frontward again and pretended he didn’t care if the young guard followed or not. Once they were out of the gardens and crossing open ground towards the lake, the guard hurried to catch up and pace him. Seto said nothing.

Seto hurried along the path to the lake. There were guards down there as well now, keeping watch while the police who were already there combed the area. The ropes intended to mark where the ice was thin remained where they were, close to a large, ominous hole in the ice, where Helen had drowned and from which Atemu had barely escaped. A policeman was already out there, on his knees, examining the hole in the ice up close. A rope was wound around his middle, the end of which was tied to a tree. Should he fall in, his fellows would be able to grab the rope and haul him up, while he was anchored from sinking or being pulled under the ice as Helen had been. 

Other officers prowled around the edge of the lake, near the bonfires, and up at the tent pavilion. Seto and his companion walked down to the lake, almost upon them all before they saw him. They stopped, the young guard standing silently by, clearly unsure of what to do. Seto stood and examined the markers on the ice from the shore, ignoring the calls of the officers and waiting for two of them as they walked over to him.

“What are you doing out here?” one asked.

“He asked to come down here, sir,” the guard said. 

“I want to give my statement and take my brother home,” Seto said.

The officer narrowed his eyes. “You should be waiting up at the palace.”

“It’s getting late,” Seto retorted. “Who knows how long it’ll take you to get to us? By that time, it’ll be too dark to travel.”

“Got no respect, do’ya,” the other officer snapped. “A woman drowned here, like.”

“I know,” Seto responded, still looking at the markers. Was he mistaken, or were there more pole-holes on the ice than marker poles? “Lady Helen. I knew her.”

“Then show some respect to the loss of yer friend,” the second officer said. “Coming down here, acting like it’s no big thing, just want to tell us what happened and go, put it behind you.”

“That’s a bit uncalled for, isn’t it?” the guard asked and was ignored.

“My brother and his companion are children,” Seto said with stressed patience, like someone speaking to someone who was slow. “I would like to take them home and get them calmed down. This has been a horrible tragedy and they don’t need to be crammed in with adults gossiping about it all for hours on end.”

“You ain’t the only one with kids here,” the second officer said. “What makes you so special… sir?”

“What’s going on here?”

Seto nearly bit his tongue. He’d been afraid of this. 

Katsuya was walking up to the three of them, trailing another pair of officers, in full constable uniform and looking aggravated. He stopped and stared at Seto intently, eyes narrowed. He ignored his officers’ answer to his question and sent them and the palace guard all away, leaving himself and Seto alone. The officers went as a group of four and stopped a ways away, talking amongst themselves and shooting obvious glances at Katsuya and Seto. The palace guard went to join some of his fellows up by a tree higher up the hill, one of whom looked higher in rank, probably to explain himself.

“Figures you’d be here,” Katsuya said, once they were all out of earshot.

“I could say the same about you,” Seto responded. 

“Of course. I’m the constable.” Katsuya narrowed his eyes again. “What are you doing down here, Kaiba?”

“Like I said to your officer, I want to give my statement and go home.”

“Codswollop,” Katsuya snapped. “Trying to get rid of evidence?”

“Are you?” Seto snapped back, which was probably not the best idea.

He tried to decide if Katsuya could have been the person at the lake. With the hooded cloak on and the distance, it would be impossible to tell. But Katsuya hadn’t been in sight before or after and surely someone would have recognized him if he had been on the grounds. He may not have been invited, but he was Yuugi’s friend, and that had to be obvious to everyone of the court. Would Yuugi really have risked asking Katsuya to come to the palace, while he was apparently supposed to be on duty in London, and move the markers? Could Katsuya have had time to move them, then return to the headquarters in London in time to be summoned from there to come back to the crime scene and investigate? Or was he as innocent in this as Seto was, and was merely doing his duty as constable and looking into a matter that was of graver importance than most petty crimes, since it had involved the King? Was all of this an accident, truly, and coincidence it had nearly claimed Atemu? But then who was the person in the hooded cloak, and why had they been down there? 

Seto looked back across the ice. The officer who had been by the hole in the ice was on his feet and slowly making his way back, drawing up his tether as he went. Seto stared, but he was simply too far out to see for certain whether there were more holes in the ice where the wooden marker poles had been set up. They had not been driven all the way through, but small wooden sticks would still have made marks in the ice where they were pushed in, their bright-red warning flags flapping in the winter wind.

“What are you looking at?” Katsuya asked. 

“The hole were Lady Helen went through,” Seto said.

“Yes, poor woman,” Katsuya said in an odd tone. Seto truly couldn’t be sure whether he was being sarcastic or genuine, which disturbed him. “You pulled the King out yourself, I heard. How brave. And lucky for the King.”

‘And not lucky for you, Katsuya?’ Seto thought silently as he studied the cold brown eyes. ‘Even if you did do this, what’s in it for you? Yuugi really has you wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he, you poor dumb bastard.’

“Sir, the markers were moved,” the officer who had been inching his way back suddenly shouted as he stepped back onto shore and making his way over, untying the tether as he went. “Moved back about twenty feet; you can see the places--”

“I didn’t realize it was policy to discuss investigations with non-officers,” Katsuya said severely, with a meaningful glance at Seto. “Perhaps you’d like to tell him everything about the Cahill murder, too, Smith?”

The officer paled and looked properly reprimanded. “Sorry, sir,” he mumbled. 

Katsuya glared at Seto, with more heat than the situation would warrant if Seto didn’t suspect him of having something to do with this. Katsuya should be mad at the officer, not him, if this hadn’t involved a cover-up, surely. From his gaze, Seto was sure he wondered what Seto was thinking now, and how much Seto might have guessed.

“You can go and wait with the rest of the party-goers,” Katsuya said through clenched teeth. “Two of my officers will be there to take statements when they can. Think you can handle that, Kaiba?”

Any other true highborn nobleman would have been offended by Katsuya’s attitude, but realize they had no authority over the police, who superseded everyone else but the King. They would surely try to exact whatever revenge they could, though. Seto pretended to be properly annoyed at having his status ignored.

“Just make sure it doesn’t take too long, constable,” he said, starting to turn away. 

The young guard who had followed him down now hurried to escort him back up. Seto walked back up in silence, looking back a couple of times as he went. He never once caught Katsuya looking his way, but instead dressing down the officer who had slipped up and then walking to a new area of the crime scene. For it was now truly a crime scene.

Seto just wasn’t sure who had committed the crime.

******

When he returned to the palace, the guard took position just inside the door again, telling him firmly to return to the sitting room with everyone else and stay there. Seto started back to it, when he was stopped by a servant.

“Are you Mr. Kaiba?” he asked timidly. Seto nodded. “Please, sir, this way. King Atemu has asked for you specifically, sir.”

Surprised, Seto fell into step with him. Mokuba and Rose would be kept with the rest in the sitting room, probably being comforted by any number of the ladies present along with the rest of the children. As Seto followed the servant through the maze of the palace, he was surprised that Atemu was awake and coherent and had asked for him.

“Do you know what this is about?” he asked as they ascended to the third floor, where Atemu’s bedroom was.

“No idea, sir,” the servant said. “He only asked me to come get you, but it’s probably to thank you saving his life, sir.”

In the South wing, the servant led him through Atemu’s sitting room into his bedroom, before bowing and leaving. Atemu was in bed, with the covers pulled up to his chin, his physician leaning over him and feeling his forehead. Atemu shook him off impatiently. He was still pale and wan-looking, but his eyes were clear when he focused them on Seto.

“Give Seto and myself a moment,” he said.

The physician looked ready to argue, but he took himself and his helpers out. Seto approached the edge of the bed and stopped. Atemu smiled up at him, eyes so heavy-lidded he looked about on the edge of sleep.

“They told me you pulled me out,” he said.

“You don’t remember? You were awake when I did.”

Atemu shook his head. “It’s fuzzy at the moment.”

Shock, perhaps. It would probably return to him later. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was a pause, while Atemu’s gaze left his and went to the window. Feeling the weight of the question Atemu was going to ask in the air long before he uttered it, Seto fidgeted slightly. 

“She’s dead, isn’t she?” Atemu said finally.

“Yes.”

Atemu’s eyes closed. “Did they find her at all?”

“…no.”

Atemu groaned and his face scrunched up. Seto hastily turned to the fire, not wanting to see Atemu in grief again. But there was only a moment of silence before Atemu got his attention again, his voice carefully controlled. When Seto turned back, his eyes were dry.

“Was anyone else hurt?”

“No. No one else was close enough.”

“The markers were there,” Atemu said, rhetorically. “I steered her too close.”

“They were moved,” Seto blurted.

Atemu looked at him sharply. Seto paused, then walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. Facing Atemu, he said more clearly, “I went back down there. The police were there, and I heard one of them mention it.”

“It wasn’t an accident?” Atemu asked. He wasn’t puzzled, he was demanding certainty.

“No. They were moved. Someone pushed them back from their original position.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know,” Seto admitted. He hurriedly told Atemu everything he’d seen, then added, tentatively, “I think it was Yuugi.”

Atemu’s eyes were hard as they stared at Seto and his voice spoke with an even tighter control over his emotions. His tone was measured, and warning. “What do you mean by that, Seto?”

Seto told him everything he’d seen and suspected, finally, since first meeting Yuugi in the South wing hallway, adding in everything Katsuya had said to him as well. Atemu listened without interruption, though his hard expression never changed. 

“I think he may have murdered your father as well,” Seto said finally, speaking the words as the idea came to him in the midst of the rest. “You said you didn’t think it was just an illness, and I think you were right that--”

“This is a very grave accusation, Seto,” Atemu said in the same measured, cautioning tone as before. “You’re sure of it?”

Seto nodded. “I think so.”

“You’re very sure?”

Realizing the warning in his voice, Seto hesitated, then resolutely nodded again. Atemu studied his face for so long that Seto began to wonder if he’d been right that blood and family honor mattered more than anything, when Atemu suddenly went limp, looking worn and exhausted.

“I need to think about this,” he said in a weary voice. 

Seto stood. He started to turn to leave when Atemu stopped him.

“I want you and Mokuba to stay at the palace,” he said. “A servant can fetch whatever you need, but I need you to stay here until I think through what you have told me.”

Seto knew better than to argue.

tbc...

A/N: Rest in Peace, Lady Helen


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen:

Seto paced the floor of the guest suite, unable to sleep. It was now almost midnight, but he hadn’t yet been to bed, nor even dressed down for the night. The palace servants sent to fetch clothes and other things from the manor had returned a couple of hours previously, having cut short the trip by going overland on horseback rather than along the road by carriage, so Seto and Mokuba had their own belongings with them. Mokuba had been in bed perhaps only an hour, in the suite next to Seto’s, which was adjoined by a mutual doorway. Seto had been in to check on him, finding him asleep with a candle still burning. Seto had blown it out and returned to his own suite, but he could not sleep.

The palace was empty of guests but for the pair of them, as far as Seto knew. The police had questioned all of the partygoers earlier that evening and sent them home while the investigation continued. None of the officers who had done the questioning was Katsuya, and Seto had not seen him again since leaving the lake. Rose had been picked up by her parents, who had either been summoned, or heard the news somewhere. No matter of such importance would have been secret for long; despite being kept for questioning, somehow the news of the King’s mishap had gotten out. Seto was sure London was abuzz with gossip.

Seto had not seen Yuugi again either, not that he’d had much chance. Once Atemu had dismissed him, Seto had returned to the crowded room to wait through the long questioning process as Katsuya’s officers drew people out one or two at a time into a room across the hall before turning them loose. After Seto and Mokuba had gotten through their barrage of questions, a servant had come up to them in the hall with orders from Atemu to see them to their guest rooms, where they’d be served a light dinner while another servant took a list of what they wanted from their home and went to fetch it. Mokuba, who had been worried about being kept on, asked Seto constantly why, to which Seto consistently replied he didn’t know. 

“He’s had a very traumatic experience, Mokuba, and he lost a dear friend of his,” Seto had said, making up the explanation as he went along. “He’s grieving and tired and he can’t attend to us right now, but he maybe wants to thank me personally for saving him.” The servant had given him that part and he was happy to use it. 

Seto wasn’t sure why Atemu wanted Mokuba to stay as well, but maybe just for Seto’s sake, so he wouldn’t be sending his kid brother home without him through the cold and dark. The carriage and driver, too, would be staying on, to be there immediately when they finally were able to go home. 

The police had finished all they could for the moment, getting through everyone they needed to question, including servants and guards, and had finally departed back for London, with explicit instructions that the area around the pond not be disturbed. They had promised to continue their investigation and see to it anyone responsible would be brought to justice. 

With Katsuya as constable, Seto wasn’t holding his breath.

It was genius, really. Having the head of police in the palm of your hand made it very easy to get away with committing crimes, he bet. Whether he’d been seduced and then blackmailed, or merely was hopelessly infatuated with Yuugi, Katsuya was surely Yuugi’s to command. Seto wondered if Katsuya had been installed as constable through Yuugi’s manipulations, so that such a valuable tool would be certain to be on hand, or if Yuugi had seen an opportunity with a young officer he could control and seized upon it and Katsuya had risen through the ranks on his own, Yuugi biding his time. It probably didn’t matter how, really. What mattered was that Katsuya was the highest authority of the London police and Yuugi’s toy. 

Was his loyalty absolute? Did he really realize what Yuugi was doing, and going along with it willingly, or was he being dragged along with threats to keep silent? Maybe he had no idea, and was the perfect accomplice, an unknowing one? No, surely Katsuya had at least an idea. Seto didn’t like the man, but he had had dealings enough with him to believe he wasn’t stupid. Weak and pathetic, maybe, but not stupid. Even if Yuugi hadn’t confided in him, he had to suspicion. 

The thing of it was, was he willingly involved, or under duress? Could he be turned against Yuugi? Surely without Katsuya as an assured accessory, Yuugi would abandon his plan? Without someone in power on his side to deflect questions and derail or downright forge investigations, he would realize how dangerous his plan was? 

But Seto had no way of knowing for sure. At the moment, Yuugi couldn’t know what Seto suspected, and so would possibly leave him alone, but if Seto went to Katsuya and it turned out he was willingly his patsy, then Seto could be in danger of Yuugi’s retaliation. 

No, the best thing to do was what he’d already done, tell Atemu. Once at least the possibility was planted in Atemu’s mind, then he would be on the alert. 

But real good would that do? Yuugi was Atemu’s cousin, was Heir Apparent now, and therefore would be with Atemu everywhere. He lived in the palace and had ample access to do him harm.

Seto frowned, glancing at the door that led out of the suite to the hallway. At that moment, Atemu was likely sleeping in his quarters, weak and very likely ill from what had happened. Seto had no idea how Atemu ran his palace; guards might or might not be posted outside his door. As a prince, Atemu had disdained being followed around by his attendants, and had taken every opportunity to give them the slip, so Seto had gathered. Had he changed that position after becoming King? Even if he hadn’t, surely Yuugi could tell the guards to let him through and they would. 

Seto muttered a curse. He could very well be making situations out of nothing. He didn’t even know that Yuugi had killed his uncle and intended to kill his cousin. Even though someone *had* moved those markers out on the ice, Atemu might not even have been the intended target, and even if he had been, there were surely others who wanted to hurt him. It came with being leader of anything. Seto would not be surprised if there had other nobles who would like to see harm come to him and Mokuba, even if it were not so final as death, so that their land and business holdings would be thrown into chaos. 

Still…

Atemu was vulnerable at the moment. It would be easy for Yuugi to gain access to his bedroom suite and murder him. Atemu was weakened; Yuugi could overpower him and smother him. 

‘You’re being irrational,’ Seto tried to tell himself. ‘You could be making things up for no reason.’

Seto prided himself on being level-headed and rational. He despised the gossipy, panicking air-heads who made up the majority of the noble class, or even the population in general. They lived to make situations of nothing, to even tell outright lies just for something to do. Surely imagining murder plots of royalty by their family members was better suited to a vapid woman breathlessly trying to shock her friends.

Not that such things had never happened before. If Yuugi wanted the crown badly enough…

Seto crossed the room and opened his door, stepping out into the hallway. It was dark, lit only by low-turned lamps placed at wide-spaced intervals along the walls, the flickering firelight barely enough to illuminate the path. No one was in sight. 

His and Mokuba’s guest suites were fortuitously on the third floor, in the East wing, and Seto wondered if that was happenstance or intentional. 

He walked down the hall towards the connecting hallway that led to the South wing, eyes and ears alert for signs of life. At this time at night, everyone but the night guards would be sound asleep, and most of those were surely outside or posted at the entrances on the ground floor. 

Seto saw and heard no one as he walked the halls to the South wing and toward Atemu’s end suite. There were even no guards posted there, and Seto wasn’t sure if that was unusual or not. He had never seen guards here before, in any case.

He tried the handle to the suite sitting room and found it unlocked. Again, he had never discovered it locked before, but he wasn’t sure if that was to be expected. Both times he had come here had been during the day.

Slipping into the sitting room, he looked around as he shut the door as softly as possible. There was no sign of life in the sitting room. The only light came from the moonlight pouring into the room through the open curtains of the balcony doors, and it was as chilly inside as in the hall.

Atemu’s bedroom door was closed, and from beneath there came the soft red-orange glow. Seto crossed to the room and decided not to knock. Instead, he tried the door and when he found it unlocked, opened it slowly and silently, peering inside the room.

It was pleasantly warm in there, the heat and light coming from a banked fire in the fireplace that was still full of glowing red embers. Between it and the moonlight coming in through the bedroom balcony doors, Seto could make out Atemu in his bed. The covers were pulled up to his chin and his eyes were closed. Thanks to the poor light, Seto could not see if he was breathing. He slipped into the room, cursing himself for his decision, telling himself that of course Atemu was breathing and that he would have some explaining to do if Atemu woke and he scared him.

Indeed, at the bedside, Seto could hear the soft susurrations of Atemu’s breathing. He doubted he imagined the trace of difficulty in it; it would be a miracle if Atemu didn’t fall ill from his dunking in the frigid waters of the lake. 

Seto reached out without thinking and gently touched Atemu’s forehead. Sure enough, he was burning up. He had a fever. 

The palace physician was still within residence, but it was unlikely he would come to check on Atemu until morning. Seto could not fetch him without explaining how he knew Atemu was sick either.

‘He’s breathing and asleep,’ Seto told himself. ‘He’ll be fine.’

And it was pretty obvious he had been making situations of nothing. There was no sign at all that Yuugi had even had any intention of coming here. Atemu was safe in his bed. And even if Yuugi was intending to try again, surely he wouldn’t be stupid enough to do so while everyone was on the alert now that everyone in the palace staff would be fussing over the King in the days to come.

Seto started to leave, but then hesitated. It was only midnight. Yuugi would have hours until dawn to sneak here.

‘You don’t know he’s planning such a thing, you fool,’ Seto told himself. ‘And if he was, what would you do to stop him? All Yuugi has to do is say he came to check on his poor cousin, so worried, and found you skulking in here like a thief.’

Wouldn’t *that* neatly solve any problem with Seto? Throw him gaol for trespassing and perhaps even suspicion of having been the one trying to kill Atemu and have the only person left on the King’s side out of the way. Then Yuugi could do any number of things to Atemu, from a hunting accident to poison to truly smothering Atemu in his sleep.

‘Any one of those gossiping ladies would bow to you for your talent for story-making,’ Seto thought sourly.

Seto studied Atemu’s face by the faint red glow of the embers in the fireplace. Then he moved to the armchair against the wall by the window and settled down for the night.

******

Morning light was streaming through the balcony doors and windows when Seto was awakened. Not by the light or birdsong, but by Atemu coughing. Groggily he sat up, rubbing his eyes, his back and neck both protesting the night in an armchair. He lowered his hand and looked over. Atemu was half-sitting, coughing harshly into his hand, the sound wet and wracking. Pneumonia, perhaps.

Seto stood and walked over to the bed. It was very early morning; the light was grayish and hardly better than darkness. The embers in the fireplace were almost completely dead, so the only light came from outside.

Atemu finally relaxed after several seconds of continuous coughing, flopping back against the bed with a thin groan of pain. He looked over and started. Seto saw the jerk through the gloom.

“Relax,” he said softly. “It’s me.”

Atemu’s voice was hoarse and weak. “Seto? What are you doing here?”

Seto hesitated and sat down on the edge of the bed. “You asked me to stay over.”

“I know that. What are you doing in my room?”

“I… stayed in here to watch over you.”

There was silence, before Atemu finally said, “You really believe Yuugi is trying to kill me.”

“Someone is,” Seto said firmly. “Those markers didn’t move themselves.”

“But you think it was Yuugi.”

“Yes.”

Atemu shifted in bed, then started coughing again. Seto waited through his coughing fit, then asked him if he wanted him to fetch the physician. Atemu shook his head, but asked for water. Seto stood, ignoring his cricked back, and went into the bathroom. All that was in there was the pitcher of water used for washing in the morning, but it would have to do. He poured some water into a cup and returned to the bedroom and gave it to Atemu. 

“Thank you.”

Atemu sipped the water, then put the cup on his bedside table and slumped back against the pillows again. He drew his covers up to his chin again and visibly shivered. It was chilly in the room, but there was nothing that could be done until the servants came with wood to start a new fire. 

“Sit,” Atemu said.

“You’re sick. I should go, let you rest. We can talk about it later.”

“True.” Atemu seemed to be fading out. “You stayed here all night?”

“From about midnight onward.”

Atemu smiled sleepily. Then he started coughing again. Seto walked over and picked up the cup of water, holding it out until Atemu’s coughing subsided. Atemu took it from him with thanks and took another drink. 

“You need to tell the first servant in here to get the physician,” Seto said. “You probably have pneumonia.”

“Speaking of which, you should probably get out of here,” Atemu said, laying back after setting aside the cup. “It’s dawn. One will be in before long.”

“Yes.”

“Will you stay here until later?”

“You wanted me to. To talk about--”

“Yes.” Atemu reached up, brushing his bangs from his face. He let his arm fall and looked across the slowly-lightening room to Seto, smiling again. Then his smile faded. “We do need to talk. You need to tell me everything. All of it, to the barest detail.”

Seto nodded. “I will.”

Atemu’s gaze lowered. Knowing that he was thinking of it, Seto started to leave again. Atemu’s voice made him pause.

“Seto… thank you.”

Seto paused, then walked back across the room to the edge of the bed. He reached out, putting his hand on Atemu’s shoulder and squeezing. “I don’t know if I’m right, Atemu. I hope I’m not.” 

“Either way, you saved my life.” He smiled, adding, “You’d better go now.”

Seto left the room and walked to the door leading to the wing. He peered out, but there was no one in sight. He left the royal suite, heading back to his own room. But he had barely closed the door and started undressing to try and sleep a little more sleep before breakfast when a knock came. He turned around and headed back to the door, opening it, frowning as Yuugi smiled up at him.

“Hello, Seto. I didn’t wake you, did I?” His violet eyes pointedly took in Seto’s clothes.

“No,” Seto said. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk,” Yuugi said, raising his eyes to Seto’s again. 

“It’s early.”

Yuugi merely smiled again. Seto growled and stepped out of his room, closing the door. If Yuugi wanted to talk, damned if Seto was going to be polite and invite him in.

Yuugi didn’t protest, only started down the hall. Seto went with him, walking in silence by his side as they headed down to the ground floor, passing servants beginning their morning chores. 

“Well? You said you wanted to talk,” Seto said gruffly after several minutes of silence. “What about?”

Yuugi didn’t directly answer his question. “It was unfortunate about poor Lady Helen,” he said. “She’ll be greatly missed. She was very close with Atemu.”

Seto said nothing. Like Katsuya, Seto suspected Yuugi was merely saying what he was supposed to say, and didn’t mean it.

“You have spent the night. I suppose my cousin wishes to thank you personally, but he has not yet had the chance. I have heard from the physician that he has taken a chill from the lake and is ill.”

Seto knew better than to give any indication he knew that already. “That’s bad news,” he said. “Is it critical?”

“I don’t know. We will do all we can, of course. We will pray for a speedy recovery. But I don’t know how long Atemu will be sick, and so it is up to me to extend his gratitude to you, so that you are not kept from your business for long.”

So that was his ploy. He was trying to get Seto to go home. Did he know that Atemu wanted Seto to stay? Did he suspect Seto suspected him, or was he just trying to get Seto away, the only person likely to pay attention to anything he did? 

“Thank you, but I was told King Atemu himself wished to speak to me, and it’s not good sense to ignore his wishes.”

Yuugi frowned slightly. “That’s true.”

There was a silence. 

“Is that all?” Seto asked finally. “Because--”

“Katsuya told me you know the markers on the ice were moved,” Yuugi said abruptly.

Shocked that Yuugi was apparently throwing caution to the wind, Seto nodded mutely.

“You should keep it to yourself. The police are still investigating, and they’ll do better if it isn’t the gossip of the day.”

“Doesn’t it concern you at all that someone is trying to kill your cousin?” Seto asked baldly.

Yuugi’s eyes widened. “You think someone is trying to kill him?”

Seto tried to read Yuugi’s expression, but he looked genuinely shocked. Which Seto didn’t buy. “What else did you think when you heard the markers had been moved?”

“Lack of sense that led to a tragic accident. Someone--”

“Come off it, Yuugi. I’m not that stupid, and neither are you.”

Yuugi’s wide-eyed look of innocence disappeared. “Fine. Yes, we believe someone may have tried to hurt someone. It wasn’t necessarily the King. How would they have known Atemu would skate there?”

That was what Seto had thought, and now he wasn’t sure what to think hearing Yuugi mention it. It was a ridiculously flawed plan for a target in mind, and yet… 

“Even if they were after Atemu, we don’t need that gossip around,” Yuugi went on. “You’ll only start a panic. So, I’m asking you… No, I’m telling you, keep it to yourself.”

Seto frowned, but Yuugi was cousin to the crown, and while he didn’t really have any power of his own, it would still be stupid to defy him. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “People gossip too much as it is.”

“Right.” Yuugi sighed. “If you really do intend on staying here until Atemu can talk to you, you’re welcome to. Anything you want, you just have to ask for it.” Then, in an unusual display of superior condescension, he added, “Waiting around for Atemu’s thanks? Isn’t that a bit beneath you, licking his boots like that?”

Seto glared at him. “You don’t make any secret of the fact you hate him, do you?”

Yuugi’s wide-eyed look returned. “I don’t hate him.”

“Bullshit,” Seto said bluntly. 

“What are you implying, Kaiba?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t hate him,” Yuugi repeated. 

“Right.”

“What is *your* relationship with him, Kaiba?” Yuugi asked abruptly. “Why defend him so much?”

“Loyalty to the crown.”

Yuugi smiled slowly. “Of course.”

tbc...


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen:

Seto stared down into Yuugi’s violet eyes and Yuugi stared back. Seto did not want to look away. There had been challenge, even accusation, in Yuugi’s words, and to look away would be an admission of guilt. Unfortunately, staring boldly into Yuugi’s eyes didn’t seem to be much of a help either.

“It’s obvious,” Yuugi said, as if Seto had asked a question. 

“What is?”

Yuugi sighed dramatically. “Don’t think I’m a fool. I know how much time you’re spending with him. It’s obvious you’re trying to curry favor and position. You might pretend to despise all the social-climbing, but you’re as bad about it as anyone else. You just pretend to be higher-minded.”

Seto was so surprised that he nearly laughed out loud. Yuugi thought he was just trying to kiss up to Atemu to gain power and status, exactly like Atemu had first thought himself. In retrospect, Seto shouldn’t have been that surprised. What sort of person would automatically assume they were lovers? That was just Seto’s guilty conscience talking.

He smiled condescendingly. “If that’s what you think.” 

Without invitation, he turned and left Yuugi standing in the hall. He returned to his bedroom, to find Mokuba sitting in the sitting room, waiting on him.

“There you are. When are we going home?”

“I’m not sure,” Seto said, sitting down with a weary sigh. “The King is sick.”

Mokuba’s gray eyes widened in horror. Seto held up his hand.

“Pneumonia. Don’t put him in his grave yet.”

“Yeah, but--”

“So, he hasn’t had a chance to talk to me yet. I think it’s more important than just thanking me for saving him, or I’m sure he would have someone tell me to go.”

Mokuba frowned. “But what could it be?”

“Who knows?” Seto lied. “You can return home at any time. The carriage and driver are here.”

“I can’t,” Mokuba said. “The train for school leaves at three.”

Seto had forgotten. It was 1st February, the weekend was up, and Mokuba was due back at school that night. He frowned, knowing that Mokuba’s feelings would be hurt if Seto didn’t return with him to see him off. And how long would Seto be wandering around here, waiting for Atemu to be well enough to see him? He knew he had nothing at home that needed his attention any time soon, but he still loathed the idea of staying on at the palace. Not least of which because Yuugi would be there. And he knew that he couldn’t very well sneak into Atemu’s bedchamber every night to “guard” him against Yuugi. Even if Yuugi did want to hurt him, Seto would run a huge risk trying to sneak off every night. On the other hand, he couldn’t just leave Atemu to Yuugi’s mercy just to spare himself any risk. He knew he couldn’t do that.

Except, Atemu *knew* Seto suspected Yuugi of murdering his father and attempting to murder him. Surely he would place some sort of security about himself? Even if he didn’t want to believe it, even if he didn’t, surely he would take some sort of precaution?

Seto glanced at the mantle clock. It was barely past nine. He was exhausted from his late night and poor sleeping position. The train left from London, but most of Mokuba’s school things were home, as he had not expected he’d be here at the palace so close to his leaving time. Even if they left now, and traveled overland on horseback rather than by carriage, they would miss the train by the time they returned. Mokuba had clothes enough brought by Atemu’s servants to suffice returning with, but Seto knew his schoolbooks and trunk were at home. He rubbed his eyes wearily.

“Why didn’t you say something about that before?”

Mokuba glared at him. “I thought we’d be home by now. And I didn’t think of it.”

Typical teenager. Seto glared back. “I didn’t foresee it happening either, Mokuba. You’ll just have to return to school without your school things and I’ll have them posted to you. You should have said something yesterday; it’s not my obligation to keep track of your responsibilities.” 

“I’ll receive a demerit!”

“Then you’ll receive one. There’s no way you’ll get your school things in time to make your train and there’s no way to get them to the school ahead of the train. Maybe next time you’ll remember yourself.”

Mokuba stalked out of the room. Mercifully alone, Seto dressed down and climbed into bed. He didn’t care if it was mid-morning, he was going to get some more sleep. Mokuba wouldn’t lack for food or entertainment here, not while he was Atemu’s guest. 

Seto was awakened by a servant a couple hours later. Blinking blurrily at him, he was informed that Atemu wished to speak with him. Seto hadn’t expected to be called back at all today, and had been intending to tell or send word to Atemu that he would return home until Atemu was well enough to talk, as well as encouraging him to take precautious measures against Yuugi, at least for the time being, regardless of his feelings. He had decided that was the wisest course. But apparently Atemu didn’t want to wait.

Getting out of bed, Seto washed and dressed before following the servant to Atemu’s private chambers. He was seen in to the sitting room, where he found Atemu sitting at the same breakfast nook they’d sat at before. He was so wrapped in robes and blankets that only his head was visible. His face was pale and he looked very bad, but he smiled faintly at seeing Seto.

“Something of this importance couldn’t wait,” he said when Seto commented on his poor condition. “Please, sit. Eat, if you’re hungry.”

There was a tray of food on the table, a light snack of kedgeree and coffee. Seto decided not to decline and helped himself to both. Atemu waited patiently while Seto ate a little, then asked him to tell him everything, in the barest detail, as he’d promised. Seto did, mentioning everything from Yuugi’s behavior to his expressions to Katsuya’s hostility. He told him about seeing Yuugi constantly refilling King Aknamkanon’s cup at the Christmas Ball and Atemu frowned.

“Poison?”

“Maybe.”

“There will be no knowing for sure. Go on.”

Seto told him about Yuugi and Katsuya’s trip to his suite when he wasn’t there, but he found himself omitting that they were lovers and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because even Yuugi and Katsuya deserved that privacy, and whether they were lovers or not had no bearing on the situation. He didn’t leave out their words, as best as he was able to remember them, and he continued with Katsuya’s threat in the alleyway and Yuugi’s words to him in the hall earlier that morning. When he was finished, throat sore and voice hoarse, he fell silent and Atemu sat in place, eyes closed. He could have been asleep. But at long last he opened his eyes halfway, contemplating the middle distance. 

“I can see why you’d think he was out to kill me,” he said finally. “But there’s no motive. Except wanting the throne, of course.”

“People have killed for less,” Seto reminded him pointedly. 

Atemu rolled his gaze up to his. “Yes.” He tilted his head slightly. “I will have to deal with him, at any rate. Even if he is not plotting my murder, I can’t have him behaving in such a manner in my court.”

Atemu’s reaction was a little less furious than Seto had hoped for, which might have been blamed on the fever clouding his thoughts. Still, he had said he would deal with Yuugi, and that was something. 

“How?” Seto said finally.

“I’ll send him away,” Atemu said, closing his eyes again and resting his head back against the seatback. “Somewhere. India, perhaps. Or to France. While he’s away, we’ll see what happens next.”

Meaning he’d see if anyone tried to kill him again. He was damn lucky he’d survived the first attempt, as poorly thought out as it had been. He might not be so lucky the second time, though Seto believed whole-heatedly that if anyone was trying to kill him, it was Yuugi. Unless…

“Katsuya will still be here.”

Atemu snorted. “Katsuya is no part of this court except under Yuugi’s favor. Still, he can be sent away as well, to accompany Yuugi as a companion, I suppose, and his second taking over his duties as constable until further notice.”

“Yuugi won’t be happy about this.”

“That doesn’t matter. I am King, he will do what I tell him. I will send him away, and he’ll go. If nothing happens while he’s gone, that will be proof enough for me, and I’ll send him to the Tower. Katsuya will be questioned as to his involvement.”

Atemu was of course referring to the Tower of London in Whitechapel. A palace turned prison, more than one royal had been held there. Its reputation was dark and bloody, and if Yuugi ended up there, he’d never leave. As cousin to the crown, he was as likely to be held for life as executed, but either way, if would be the end of him. As for Katsuya, he would probably just be executed. 

Seto said nothing, but he had no sympathy for Yuugi or Katsuya. They’d played a dangerous game, and if they were murderers, they should be so lucky as to be executed. The Tower of London had as much a reputation for torture as it did anything else. 

Except there was the niggling wonder if Yuugi really did have anything to do with it at all. Maybe Aknamkanon really had just been ill, and maybe Atemu and Helen had just been victim to a cruel accident.

But, no. The markers had been moved. That much was obvious, and they had not been moved back innocently. Any fool knew they were markers to warn skaters of thin ice, and no one would touch them unless they were intending harm. And if Yuugi was innocent, and merely hateful of Atemu, then another attempt would happen while he was away and he would be exonerated. 

Atemu opened his eyes. Looking off into the middle distance across the room again, he spoke with a weary, scratchy voice. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner, Seto?”

“I didn’t think he was trying to kill you.”

“Katsuya’s threat.”

“By the next time I saw you, your father had died, and I didn’t want to burden you with it then. After that it was your coronation and… it slipped my mind.”

Atemu smiled a little. “And there at your house, it slipped your mind again?”

Ignoring the unsubtle innuendo, Seto said, “Yuugi’s behavior or not, Katsuya’s threat or not, I didn’t believe anyone was trying to hurt you until the skating party. I was merely going to tell you how Yuugi acted behind your back. I figured it was merely a stupid in-family fight and that you’d settle it yourself. After the party, that’s when I began to believe Yuugi might be up to something more.” 

“He helped you pull me from the lake. I’ve been told that.”

Realizing that Atemu was trying to prove Yuugi’s innocence, Seto nodded. He did not begrudge Atemu this; whatever their current feelings, Yuugi was family and deserved such loyalty. At least, until it was proven that he didn’t.

“Yes, he did. I was saving you anyway, and it would have looked suspicious, or at least cowardly, if he didn’t help.”

Atemu nodded himself in thoughtful acceptance. “The only course is to send him away and see what happens. I won’t question him of this directly. If he’s guilty, he will only lie. And thereafter be on full guard against giving himself away. If he is innocent, then I do him a disservice doubting him. It will be a scandal and it will ruin him, even if I proclaim his innocence myself. I’ll send for him after you leave.”

“He’ll probably think you distrust him. That you might believe he was behind the markers.”

“Perhaps. But he needs to go now, if he is truly guilty, before he can put some other plot into motion. I think I will send him to France. The Russians are beginning to alarm everyone with their expansion programs, and Yuugi can act as ambassador to discuss tactics with Bonaparte in my stead. It is legitimate, and maybe he won’t think I am sending him because I believe he is trying to kill me. Still, I think I will pretend to him I suspicion someone else. I don’t lack for political enemies.”

Atemu broke into a coughing fit and his hands briefly appeared as he picked up an untouched cup of tea to soothe his throat. Even from where he was sitting, Seto could smell the lemon and honey in the tea. 

“You should be in bed,” Seto said. 

“Yes, I know. But I have Yuugi to deal with first. A message won’t be enough. Even if the reason for sending him to France is to see if he is trying to kill me, it will be a real assignment, and I will need to speak with him on what he is to do and say. This cannot wait until I am well, for several reasons.”

Seto hesitated, then said, “Do you think sending him on such an important task is safe? If he is really out to get you, he may--”

“Start a war with France by insulting Bonaparte? I don’t think so. Risking the lives of all of Britain’s people just on some roundabout scheme to kill me? Imagining such hatred is almost impossible, and Yuugi is not stupid besides. Such a scheme would be even less likely to work than moving the ice markers. And even so, even if he hated me that much, he would not. If there is one thing about Yuugi of which I am certain, it is his loyalty to the country. He loves Britain absolute.”

tbc...


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen:

Seto stood on the train station platform with all the other parents and guardians, waiting for the private school train to start the journey to Codsworth Boarding School. 

“’Bye, Seto,” Mokuba said. He was hanging out of one of the passenger windows to say goodbye. His words were tempered; he was still annoyed about the pending demerit.

“Goodbye, Mokuba,” Seto said. He had no sympathy. Everyone was responsible for themselves. 

The train’s whistle blew sharply, warning that the train was beginning to move. The slow chug-chug of the wheels started and the train pulled forward. This brought a flurry of goodbyes and last minute reminders from all the parents on the platform. Several arms hung out of the train’s windows, waving as the children said goodbye to their families. Winter break was over, and the children would not be seen again for some time.

Seto stood on the platform and watched the train as it picked up speed, chugging out of the station and along the tracks heading West. Once it was out of sight beyond a curve in the track, he turned and headed out of the station, content that Mokuba was safely on his way to the boarding school. Now that Mokuba was out of London, was away to school, he realized that he felt better. This situation with Yuugi was more worrisome than he’d allowed himself to believe until now. If Yuugi really was a killer, he might become angry enough with Seto interfering to hurt Mokuba. Now that he was at school, that was not something to worry about any longer.

‘And Yuugi will be in France,’ he reminded himself. Atemu had promised to send him away, telling him that very day.

Seto walked along the train station foyer, heading for the street outside where his carriage was waiting. But he hadn’t even reached the entrance when someone stepped away from the wall he’d been leaning against and approached. Seto stopped and waited as Katsuya came up.

“Are you following me?” he demanded.

Katsuya, in full uniform, stopped in front of him, and smiled coldly. He didn’t answer the question directly. “I have officers all through London,” he said.

Seto glared at him, unsure whether that meant yes or no, or if it was just a threat. Because yes or no, it was a threat. 

Parents of the schoolchildren and other patrons of the train station were passing by, some glancing curiously. There was no hiding the tension between the two of them, and being seen in a public place speaking with a uniformed police officer was not a good idea in this day of gossip mills. 

“What do you want, Katsuya?” Seto asked. 

“You should learn some better manners.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Seto nearly asked him if he shouldn’t be getting ready to go to France, but realized just in time that Katsuya might not know about that yet, and would wonder how Seto did. Atemu probably would have had time to speak with Yuugi by now, but if Katsuya had been here on duty in London, he wouldn’t have been told yet. 

“I’d like to question you about the incident at the skating party,” Katsuya said.

He’d said it plenty loudly enough to be heard by at least a dozen people. Patrons of the train station stopped and stared openly. Furious, Seto forced himself to try and keep his voice even and his expression calm. Katsuya could ruin him easily without ever really accusing him of anything, just by saying something a certain way, and even if he didn’t, the gossip mill would churn feverishly and make life very difficult for a while. Katsuya knew that, and if it hadn’t been his intention, he would have lowered his voice.

“I already gave my statement,” Seto said, striving to sound natural, vaguely puzzled but unconcerned.

“I know,” Katsuya said. “But some new evidence has turned up, and we really need to question you a bit further, so if you would…” He gestured for Seto to come along with him.

Seething, Seto struggled with keeping his expression politely puzzled and fell into step with Katsuya, paying no attention to the people who were still staring openly. Even now he could hear some whispering. As people parted out of the way, the pair of them exited the station out into the cold air and pale sunshine of the winter afternoon, turning along the sidewalk.

“You know perfectly well I know you’re trying to ruin me,” Seto said without looking at Katsuya, keeping his head up and face forward, walking like there was nothing wrong.

“I know,” Katsuya said, doing the same thing. “Who are you going to tell? Atemu?”

“The *King* has more important things to do than worry about anything you’d be doing,” Seto snapped cuttingly. 

“Yes, but what about something you’ve already done?” Katsuya responded. Lowering his voice slightly, he said, “I told you, I can destroy you.”

Clenching his teeth, Seto walked in silence, struggling to think of what to do now. What had Katsuya done? If he and Yuugi had murdered Aknamkanon, Helen, and attempted to murder Atemu-- and it seemed there was no question now-- he would know all the details of the crimes, and he could have planted evidence to make it seem like Seto had done it. Seto had been there both times, and Yuugi and Katsuya both knew that. So did Atemu. Would the King believe Seto was really the killer, if there was enough evidence to make it seem so? He had no love for his cousin or the constable, but he had seemed reluctant to swallow that Yuugi was trying to kill him. He’d been trying to dismiss Seto’s accusation with reason. Would he do the same for Seto, or would he wonder if he’d been fooled all along? The truth was, Atemu had teased and played with a complete stranger, throwing caution, propriety, and good sense to the wind, and not long after, his father had been murdered. Would he wonder if Seto had done it after all, and was in turn trying to place blame on the cousin that obviously despised him? 

“You’re so quiet,” Katsuya said, his voice smug. “Attempting to think of an alibi?”

“You know very well I’ve done nothing wrong,” Seto said. 

“I know no such thing,” Katsuya said. He sounded like he was struggling not to laugh gleefully. “I know only what the crime scenes tell me.”

A woman passing by on Seto’s left turned her head. They were not far from Scotland Yard, and Seto stepped up his pace slightly.

“Why don’t you save the accusations for your office?” he snapped. “It’s not good form for the constable to question someone out in public.”

Katsuya did laugh. “What would you know of good form in police work? I can question anyone anywhere. Guilty conscience?”

Seto wanted to hit him. Knowing that Katsuya would be only so happy if he did, as he would then be able to arrest him outright, he withheld the urge. They reached the police headquarters and Seto walked up the steps to the front door. A uniformed officer standing outside opened one of the double doors, nodding to Katsuya as they stepped through. Inside, an entrance hall held a tall desk, behind which sat an officer, writing on a piece of paper. He looked up as they entered, nodded to Katsuya, then looked at Seto, giving him what was no doubt the sort of steely look he’d give any suspect. A warning look. 

“Come to my office, Kaiba,” Katsuya said, his voice suddenly warm. “We’ll get this mess sorted out, sure enough.”

A show for his fellow officers. Perhaps he hadn’t yet planted any evidence anywhere, or perhaps he hadn’t yet filed any paperwork naming Seto a suspect. Perhaps he didn’t yet have time to fully make it look bad for Seto, and his fellow officers might get suspicious if he acted too harshly to someone who wasn’t suspected. Perhaps he was just known as a polite, affable policeman to his men, and didn’t want to act out of character.

Seto followed Katsuya through a public workspace for other officers. Desks littered the space, in turn littered with pieces of paper, quills, ink pots, and police sketches. At first glance, it looked like a mess, but on closer inspection, Seto saw an underlying orderliness. Well-stacked piles of forms and folders, not a cup or crumb anywhere to be seen, the floor and windows spotlessly clean.

A handful of officers were in the workspace. Four were working diligently and barely looked up. A fifth was talking softly with a woman sitting in a chair, a handkerchief to her face and her voice shaky with tears. Two more were standing by one of the windows, each holding a cup of coffee. They both stopped talking and stared as Katsuya led Seto across the workspace, their expressions curious and suspicious.

A door on the far wall opened to Katsuya’s office. Paneled with dark wood, containing a desk, three chairs, a filing cabinet, lamp, and small bookshelf stocked with volumes of police procedure, autopsy research, and crime case history, it looked every inch the office of the head of police. 

“Sit down,” Katsuya said as he shut the door, the warmth gone and his voice as cold as the ice Atemu had fallen through. 

Seto reluctantly sat down in one of the two chairs on the public side of the desk, while Katsuya went around and seated himself in his private chair. His desk was like those outside-- messy, yet organized in its fashion. Katsuya plunked his elbows down on the papers, laced his fingers together, and rested his chin on them. He stared across the desk at Seto.

“Okay, Kaiba,” he said. “Let’s hear what you know about the lake incident.”

This was not a police officer wanting a statement from a witness. Nor was it a police officer wanting a statement from a suspect. This was a demand Seto tell Katsuya everything he knew about what Yuugi, or Katsuya, had done.

Seto smiled across the desk, though he had no idea what he was going to do. “I already gave you my statement that day.”

Katsuya’s eyes bored into his. In a warning tone, he said, “Don’t play cute, Kaiba. You know why you’re here.”

“Do I?”

“I’m not playing games with you. Tell me everything you know.”

Seto’s mind raced. Katsuya had yet to actually come out and say he knew Seto suspected him of murder. That could mean two things. That he was waiting for Seto to admit what he knew, so he could tell Yuugi, or that he really didn’t know that Seto suspected him, and he had dragged him here for some other reason. Seto still wasn’t sure of anything one hundred percent. Perhaps Yuugi was guilty of murder, and Katsuya was oblivious. His threats thus far could be read as a warning to leave Yuugi alone and let him be a bastard to Atemu behind his back, messing with him within his court, not as a warning to keep his nose out of their murder plot. This whole thing hinged on Katsuya’s role, and if Seto said the wrong thing, he could bring trouble down on himself for no reason. If he told Katsuya he thought Yuugi was a killer, he would warn them for certain that someone knew what they were up to. Or, he’d piss Katsuya off about accusing his lover of murder, on an admittedly flimsy hunch, and bring trouble for himself that way. What was he to do?

“I’m waiting,” Katsuya growled.

“I already told you,” Seto said. “I was at the party. During the refreshments, I saw someone down at the lake. I couldn’t see his face, he was wearing a cloak with a hood. When we went back down to the lake, King Atemu and Lady Helen fell through the ice. Lady Helen was lost, but Yuugi and I pulled King Atemu up and brought him inside.” It wouldn’t hurt to reiterate he knew Yuugi had helped save his cousin from the lake. Alone, Seto probably would have lost him to the cold before he could drag him up, or fallen through himself due the pressure against a small area of ice that was already strained. “When I came down to the lake to tell you all this, I heard that the markers had been moved… so it must not have been an accident, and perhaps that person in the hood was responsible.”

“Right. The person in the hood only you saw.” Katsuya’s expression and voice gave nothing away. Now he sounded like an officer skeptical over a witness’ statement. He was good with these interrogation games. Maybe his fast rise to constable at such a young age wasn’t because of Yuugi. “My officers obtained the statements of all the other guests. No one else saw a person in a hood by the lake.”

“I just happened to look at the right time.”

“Of course.”

“I didn’t even know the markers had been moved until I’d come down to the lake,” Seto repeated. Maybe if he made it sound like his officer had revealed something new to him…

“Why did you come down anyway?” Katsuya asked, turning it back on Seto. “You knew my officers were coming up to talk to everyone, and you were under orders to stay there.”

“The guard said we weren’t under arrest,” Seto said lamely.

“You weren’t. But you were advised to stay put.” Katsuya’s eyes narrowed. “So, why did you ignore that… and come down to the scene of the crime?”

“Are you suggesting something?” Seto said, trying to bring this out into the open.

“No. Are you?”

“If you think I had something to do with it, say so.” So that Seto would know what Katsuya was really up to.

“Did you have something to do with it?”

“No! I told you, I saw someone in a hood--”

“That no one else saw.”

“Cut the fucking games, Katsuya!” Seto snarled, pushed to the breaking point. “Are you trying to pin this on me, or not?”

Katsuya raised his eyebrows, sitting up straight. In a soft, deadly voice, he said, “Are you accusing me of unethical conduct?”

“Yes.”

Katsuya looked angry. But finally he smiled. “It would really easy to do that, you know,” he said quietly. Probably so his voice wouldn’t carry out into the workspace. “No one has better access to evidence and crime scenes and paperwork than I do.” He added, “And no one would believe you if you went out and said I’d said so.”

Because he was such a good guy in public, he meant. No doubt, if Seto asked around, he’d be told Katsuya was the perfect constable. No doubt people off the street would say he was a polite young man. His officers probably adored him. His friends, his neighbors, the people he’d helped. 

Trying to turn this back on Katsuya again, Seto said, “And what would be your reason for framing me?”

Katsuya didn’t take the bait. His eyes narrowed and he studied Seto closely. Just as Seto didn’t truly know Katsuya’s role in all this, nor did Katsuya didn’t truly know what Seto suspected. Although, it had to be pretty obvious. And finally Katsuya admitted that.

“You think Yuugi did something to Atemu, don’t you?”

He hadn’t mentioned Aknamkanon. Maybe he didn’t know that Seto suspected Yuugi’s involvement in that. Or maybe that really had just been an illness. There were too many variables. But now, here it was, a bold statement that Katsuya knew Seto suspected Yuugi. 

“Why would I think that?” Seto said evasively. 

“As you said, cut the fucking games.” 

“No, really. Why would I think that? Yuugi helped me pull the King from the lake. He probably would have done the same for Lady Helen if--”

“There’s only one reason you came down to that lake,” Katsuya interrupted. “To see whether it was an accident or not, so you could have evidence to accuse Yuugi.”

“Was Yuugi the man in the hood?” Seto asked.

Katsuya was now the one who looked like he was restraining himself from punching. 

“Listen here, Kaiba,” he said. The anger and ice in his voice previously was nothing compared to now. This was the voice of a man fully capable of anything. “You keep your nose out of our business. Got nothing to do with you. You’ll only bring grief on yourself, you go snooping into matters don’t concern you. You don’t know nothing, and even if you did, you got nothing to show for it. I’m constable. I know what was where. I filed those findings, too. You go accusing Yuugi of anything, and it’s going to come back on you, and bad.” Now he repeated his previous threat. “It’ll be damn easy to pin anything on you. You keep snooping around, you’ll find yourself the accused one. I can make it look like anything I want to. Stay out of this, stay away from Yuugi and Atemu both, or you’ll be standing trial for Lady Helen’s murder yourself.”

Seto sat across the desk, looking into the cold-hearted face. Katsuya meant it. He’d pin the blame on Seto for Lady Helen’s murder, Atemu’s attempted murder, and maybe even Aknamkanon’s murder.

And there was nothing Seto would be able to do to stop him.

tbc...

A/N: Reviews are always appreciated.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen:

Seto left the police station in a foul mood. Katsuya had released him without condition. His threat had been made, his ultimatum spelled out. Stay away from Atemu or be blamed for the murders. 

What was Seto to do? The smartest course would be to just do what he was told and get on with his life. But he knew he couldn’t do that. Never mind his feelings for Atemu, he couldn’t leave him to be slaughtered by his power-hungry cousin. Even if Atemu sent him away, as soon as he returned, Yuugi would find some way to kill Atemu and take his place as King. 

He had to convince Atemu to do something more drastic, but he knew Atemu would not imprison Yuugi without evidence that he deserved it. And even now, after all of that in the police station, Seto still didn’t have any. Katsuya’s warning to stay away was not evidence, maybe not even evidence enough to make Atemu believe Seto for sure. That was no failing on Atemu’s part; it was a terrible thing to believe your own family wanted you dead. 

Seto walked back to his carriage at the train station, his mind churning. Katsuya had him watched. He had read that between the lines. So if he returned to the palace, Katsuya would be informed. The problem was, Yuugi was bound to be livid about being sent away, and he would undoubtedly suspicion the reason was that Atemu suspected him. Would he, angry and nervous, kill Atemu before his departure? 

Seto reached his carriage and instructed the driver home. He could not return to the palace, not yet, not until Katsuya and Yuugi were gone. But he would send a message, telling Atemu what had happened that day, and warning him to watch Yuugi until he was on his way to France. After that…

At home, Seto went into his study, immediately putting quill to paper. He wrote out a quick letter to Atemu, signed and sealed it with his family’s insignia, then summoned his messenger. The letter runner was young, with a terrible Cockney accent and a fondness for ribald jokes, but he was fast and dependable. Seto told him to take the letter to the palace and be persistent until someone took the letter to Atemu.

“Gee, the King hisself?” the messenger asked, looking down at the letter in curiosity. “Right to the King hisself? You must be a right important person, sir, writin’ letters to the King personal like.”

“Go on,” Seto said sternly. “And don’t come back until you get a reply.”

The messenger’s eyes widened beneath his thatch of strawberry blond hair. “A reply from the King? Jus’ like that?”

“It’s important,” Seto said shortly. “King Atemu will understand once he reads the letter. Now stop asking questions about things that don’t concern you and take that letter.”

“Yessir,” the messenger said, not the least offended. “Right on, sorry, sir.”

He turned and hurried from the entrance hall. Seto went back to his study and sat down in his chair, wondering if this was too little, too late.

******

The messenger didn’t get back until after nightfall. He was exhausted, red-faced and runny-nosed from the cold, but he held out a letter when he was shown in to the library where Seto was reading. The letter bore Seto’s name in fluid script and the royal seal on the back. 

Seto dismissed his servants and sat back down in his reading chair, opening the letter without aid of the letter opener, which was still missing. He slid out the parchment and unfolded it. In his neat script, Atemu thanked him for telling him what had happened, and that Yuugi would be going, immediately, Katsuya with him. He was not happy, and Atemu promised to have a guard outside his bedchamber, begging illness as a reason not to have anyone pass. Then Yuugi and Katsuya would be gone. He told Seto to send word if any of the police force said or did anything to him, and that was all of the letter. 

Seto set it down on his side table and stared into the fire. It was what it was. Yuugi and Katsuya would be gone… and then what? If there were no more attempts on Atemu’s life while Yuugi was gone, would he then believe? Or would he wonder if he’d suspected his cousin for no reason, and that the true culprit had just given up? 

Would Yuugi poison Atemu’s mind against Seto and make him suspect that there were no more attempts because Seto was trying to frame Yuugi and so would do nothing while the other was in France? 

No, Atemu was a reasonable person, beneath his lust for recklessness and danger. Surely he would see Seto had no motive. 

******

Seto sighed as he flipped through the stack of mail his butler had fetched for him. A handful of cards from people he barely remembered from school asking after his health while not-so-subtlety fishing for information about the skating accident, a similar letter as well as an invitation from Alexandra to attend a boating on the River Thames, an invitation from Charlotte to the same damn outing, a tersely-worded letter from Mokuba about the demerit he had received for arriving without his school supplies, and finally an invitation from the parents of Rose to talk about the children’s little romance.

Seto glared at that letter. This was ridiculous. The kids were fourteen, and had spent a few weeks attending parties and operas together. Mokuba may have bought Rose a few little gifts, but the wording of her mother’s letter made it seem like Mokuba had proposed marriage.

Seto sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t ignore this. Mokuba was already mad at him, and if he snubbed his little girlfriend’s parents, and Mokuba heard about it…

******

"I'm so glad you could make it, Mr. Kaiba," Mrs. Kensington said as Seto joined her and her husband at the table.

Seto nodded, seating himself across from the pair. The Kensingtons had chosen one of the finest restaurants in London and informed him in the invitation that they would pay for everything. Perhaps to show off their wealth and their hospitality, as if the teenagers really were prospecting marriage.

"What exactly is it you wished to discuss?" Seto asked. "Has Mokuba offended you in some manner?"

"Oh, no. No, no, of course not," Mrs. Kensington said quickly. "Mokuba is a darling."

"Quite a fine upstanding young man," Mr. Kensington added.

"Rose is quite smitten," Mrs. Kensington went on. "Perhaps more than I originally thought, and Mokuba seems to be as well. He has given our daughter three expensive gifts now. The locket, the swan, and the broach."

Seto had no knowledge of the broach, but he didn't ask. "And what do you think is going to happen now?"

The Kensingtons looked between them. Seto could tell from their expressions that they now believed they might have overestimated the situation and that a Kaiba-Kensington match was not welcome by him. However, they were saved from responding right away by the waitstaff coming to take their orders. Seto only glanced at the menu and placed an order without caring what he ate, though he had to sit through the Kensingtons choosing carefully among the offered dishes. At long last they made up their minds and the waiter left.

"Well," Mrs. Kensington started, in answer to Seto's question. "The dears do seem quite taken with each other. Our Rose does go on about Mokuba. He has made quite the impression on her."

"Yes, quite, quite," Mr. Kensington agreed.

"We might have to prepare ourselves for a more serious matter than a mere childish infatuation."

"I'm sure that's exactly what it is," Seto said dryly.

The parents exchanged glances again and the atmosphere changed. Mrs. Kensington looked at Seto with a colder stare, clearly choosing her words carefully.

"Is there something Mokuba has said? That he..." She paused. Despite whatever had caused her to now seem angry, she was trying not to offend Seto.

Seto had enough of the dodging around to spare offense. "That he what? Be blunt-- I prefer it."

"Very well," Mrs. Kensington said after a brief hesitation. "Has Mokuba given indication that he is merely stringing Rose along? Does he intend to break her heart, for fun?"

Seto sighed and sipped his water. "No. Mokuba seems to be quite as fond of Rose as she is of him. What I meant was, they are a pair of fourteen-year-olds, and going to separate boarding schools. I believe it is precisely a childish infatuation, and won't last. On either side."

"I was Rose's age when I met Charles. I knew right away he was the one for me." Mrs. Kensington gave Mr. Kensington a glowing look and he smiled at her.

In truth, Seto's parents hadn't been much older. Sixteen and seventeen, respectively.

"Still, I think it's a bit early to be planning for the wedding," Seto said.

"That isn't really why we asked you here," Mrs. Kensington admitted. "I know it's early. But I did want to get to know the older brother of dear Mokuba. You are his primary caretaker and the head of your house. Rose and Mokuba are... well, not courting, per se, but involved. It is only proper to know the family of the young man wooing our daughter."

Seto sighed, wondering if there would ever be a time when he wasn’t being bombarded with requests to be someone’s best friend. He had no interest in this nonsense. 

His mind drifted to Atemu. He wondered if the King had gotten any better. Pneumonia was no laughing matter, and it would be a cruel thing indeed if Yuugi got his wish even though Atemu had survived the sabotage at the lake and sent his cousin away to France. 

Seto wanted to go and see him, he realized. 

“Seto, darling!”

Seto was pulled from his thoughts and looked up. Charlotte was standing beside the table, a bright smile on her face. Mr. and Mrs. Kensington smiled at her.

“Hello, Miss Jones,” Mrs. Kensington said. “Do you know Mr. Kaiba?”

“Very well,” Charlotte said with a coquettish giggle. “We’ve known each other a long time, haven’t we, darling?”

“Would you like to join us?” Mrs. Kensington asked, gesturing to the empty seat between herself and Seto. “Go on, dear. We’d be happy for you to.”

Mr. Kensington got to his feet and Seto reluctantly did the same. Looking ecstatic, Charlotte immediately settled herself down without waiting for one of the men to pull her chair out, setting her little clutch bag on the corner of the table. Seto and Mr. Kensington sat back down. A waiter, ever vigilant in this high class restaurant, immediately came to ask if she wanted anything. She only asked for a tea, then turned back to the table.

“I do hope I’m not imposing,” she said, though it was clear she wouldn’t have left even if she was.

“Not at all, dear,” Mrs. Kensington said. “That’s a lovely dress.”

“Thank you! Your own is so beautiful. Wherever did you get it?”

Seto wanted to pick up the knife on the table and puncture his eardrums, then slit his wrists for good measure. He glanced at Mr. Kensington, who looked about as thrilled with the conversation as he did. He turned to Seto and asked him about business. Though it was hardly better, Seto was glad to be distracted from the conversation about the latest dresses a famous boutique in downtown London was selling. As they were talking, the waitstaff brought the dinners, though Seto ignored his. 

“Darling, I was so happy to run into you,” Charlotte said, abruptly turning to Seto. “You never seem to go anywhere, so I was ever so surprised.” She made a pout, then smiled. “You’re sure I’m not interrupting?”

“No, no,” Mrs. Kensington said. “We were just discussing Mokuba and Rose, actually.”

“Oh, they make such a cute couple!” Charlotte squealed, looking at Seto quickly, as if to see whether she had earned any brownie points for her praise of Mokuba. “And of course, a family union with a Kensington…or a Kaiba…is a great honor.”

“Thank you, dear, that’s very sweet of you to say,” Mrs. Kensington said. 

Seto knew Charlotte had not been looking to compliment the Kensingtons. It had been just another unsubtle suggestion directed at Seto. He stared back at her impassively. Her smile faltered briefly before it returned and she turned to Mrs. Kensington again. 

“I’m having a little get-together for Valentine’s this month. Just a little thing, hardly a trifle. Would you and Mr. Kensington like to come? I’ll be ever so happy.”

“Why, that sounds lovely, dear. Charles might not be able to make it, but I’d be glad to come.”

“Wonderful. And surely you’ll come, won’t you, Seto?” Charlotte looked at him. “I don’t know if my invitation has made it to your house yet. The postal service is ever so slow.”

“It arrived yesterday.”

“Oh. Well, you won’t have to bother mailing a RSVP, because I’m right here.” She gave a silly little giggle. 

“I won’t be attending.”

Charlotte’s smile faded entirely. “Why, darling? Surely, you don’t have something that conflicts? I could change the date, I suppose, but that’ll be such a bother.”

“It doesn’t matter what the date is, I won’t be going.”

Mr. and Mrs. Kensington looked at Seto with surprise, and disapproval for rudeness on Mrs. Kensington’s part. Seto ignored them both, staring right at Charlotte, his expression cold and hard, willing her to get it through her head that he was not interested in her and never would be. Perhaps it did this time, because her face crumpled up a little and she looked like she was holding back tears. But rather than begin to cry—Mrs. Kensington’s shushing and reaching toward her was brushed off—Charlotte jumped to her feet, knocking her chair back with a squeal of chair legs against wood floor.

“You never accept my invitations!” she shouted.

The conversation in the restaurant died. Mrs. Kensington looked around and then tried to quiet Charlotte down, but she was having none of it. On her feet, glaring down at Seto, her eyes were shiny with tears, but her teeth were bared in a snarl. Ignoring everyone else but him, her voice was rapidly becoming shrill.

“You are the rudest man I have ever met! Why don’t you ever accept my invitations? Or anyone’s?”

“I have no interest in your silly little parties,” Seto said calmly. “You aren’t just throwing a party or asking me to another. You’re trying to get me to court you, even though I have no interest in you and have tried to make it clear.”

Mrs. Kensington looked scandalized and even Mr. Kensington looked shocked. As Charlotte stood there, shaking, her eyes even shinier with tears, he looked between them.

“Now, that’s not really necessary, is it? Bit rude, don’t you think?”

“Seto knows all about rude,” Charlotte said, her voice dropping to a low pitch filled with venom. “It’s all he ever is, to anyone.”

“What can I say? You wouldn’t take a polite no for an answer. So I had to get tough.”

“Would it have killed you to say yes once? You went to Alexandra’s party!”

“She’s not trying to marry me.”

“What’s wrong with me? You never showed the slightest interest in me, ever! Or anyone. No woman is good enough for you, I know. Some of my friends have had the joy of being on the receiving end of one of your nasty invectives. You never seem to like anyone.” Charlotte’s eyes narrowed and she frowned. “Why is that?”

Seto continued to stare passively at her, ignoring the fact that the whole restaurant was sitting and watching the spectacle. “What does it matter? None of you silly girls interest me.”

A tear ran down Charlotte’s cheek, but she still was furious. “That shouldn’t be. People talk. Your behavior is strange. You should be going to all the gatherings, socializing with people our age, courting… and you don’t do any of it. You stay locked up in your manor, like a strange hermit. It’s weird.”

“What would you know?”

“Mr. Kaiba!” Mrs. Kensington exclaimed. “Isn’t that enough? People are staring, and you’ve hurt the poor girl’s feelings.”

“I should almost be used to it,” Charlotte said before Seto could answer. “Seto, darling, you’re the most vile, arrogant *sod* I’ve ever met.”

At the Kensingtons’ scandalized gasps at the harsh language, Seto didn’t move. He couldn’t help a faint smile to tick his mouth, and it only made Charlotte angrier.

“Smile all you like. You treat everyone like they’re beneath you, and that’s going to get you into trouble. You’ll have no friends.” She wiped furiously at her wet cheek, then snatched up her clutch from the table. “No one.”

Seto smiled wider. He stood up from the table. “I’ll try not to let the sorrow become crippling.”

Charlotte slapped him. Seto stared down at her in shock and fury, but Charlotte was just as angry. Shrieking now, she went for his jugular.

“I hope you get knocked down a peg, you sodding pouf!” 

Charlotte turned and stalked out of the restaurant. Mr. and Mrs. Kensington got to their feet as well.

“Well, this dinner *has* been most illuminating about you, Mr. Kaiba,” Mrs. Kensington said as Mr. Kensington laid some money on the table. “If this is the way you act in public to harmless sweethearts like Charlotte Jones, I don’t think I want my Rose having anything to do with the Kaibas.”

The pair turned and left. The people in the restaurant were still staring, so shocked that the silence was complete. Seto turned and left the restaurant, hearing the whispers starting even before he had passed through the doors.

tbc...


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen:

Out on the street, Seto looked up at the sky. He was ecstatic that Charlotte seemed to be over him, finally and for good, and not the least bit guilty she had taken it so badly. But her words remained with him, worrisome. She had called him a pouf in front of everyone in the restaurant, and he wondered-- had that been a simple insult to the man who had humiliated her in public, or the real suspicion in her mind? Her statements that his behavior was odd, coupled with the insult, were telling, but was he once again inferring something based on his own secrets?

The issue of Rose's parents could be a problem as well. They had seemed utterly disgusted with his treatment of Charlotte, and were likely to forbid their daughter having contact with Mokuba. Unfair, of course, but likely. Seto did not want to be the cause of a break-up between his brother and his little girlfriend. That was coming on its own.

Well, there was nothing to be done about it now. And no sense worrying about it now. Mokuba and Rose were both in school, and wouldn't be seen again until April and the Easter Holiday Break.

Seto's thoughts turned back to Atemu. There was no hope for it; he was concerned about him and wanted to satisfy himself that he was out of danger, and that Yuugi and Katsuya were gone. So, he found his carriage and climbed aboard, directing his driver to the palace. Once there, he informed the gate guards that he wished to see King Atemu and that upon being informed of his arrival, Atemu would surely admit him entrance. The guards, too professional to be dubious, summoned a messenger and sent him inside to inform Atemu that Seto was there, and then regaled an annoyed Seto with anecdotes of their childhood cricket teams, devolving into a friendly argument about which of them had been the better player. At last, the messenger returned, agreeing that Atemu had invited Seto in, and that henceforth he was to come and go as he pleased. The two guards regarded Seto with surprise and greater respect, opening the gates for him and wishing him a good day.

The messenger led Seto inside to the palace and up to Atemu's chambers. He said not a word the entire trip and bowed smartly when he had seen Seto to the door before hurrying off. Seto knocked and entered, finding Atemu in his sitting room, in a chair before the fire, a blanket across his lap and wearing a dressing gown, sipping hot tea, opened mail strewn about the table beside him. Seto hesitated before crossing the room and sitting awkwardly in one of the other two chairs.

"Good afternoon, Seto," Atemu said, eyes closed as he sipped from the tea cup he held with both hands. His voice was still scratchy and hoarse, his face pale. "What brings you here?"

Reluctantly, Seto admitted, "I came to see how you were."

Atemu smiled, though he did not open his eyes. "Better since last you saw me, I admit, though I don't sound it." 

No, he didn’t. 

“Would you care for something to drink?”

“No, thank you.” 

Atemu sipped his tea again. “Did your brother make it safely to school?”

“Yes, he did.” 

“Yuugi and Katsuya, too, have left.” He paused. "They boarded a train to the harbor yesterday morning."

"Are you sure they are gone?"

Now Atemu opened his eyes and his smile was long gone. "You believe he is the snake in the grass wholeheartedly, don't you?" Before Seto could answer, Atemu added, "Yes, I'm sure. One of my servants escorted the pair to the station and saw them on the train himself. A man at the harbor ensured their safe boarding of the ship to France, and he told me they got on."

"Was Yuugi angry?"

"Furious. But knew better than to argue, and did his best to hide it. To my face, he is the kind and loving cousin, but I have always seen through his charades."

Seto remembered their minor confrontation in the gardens the day Atemu's father had died. It was indeed obvious Atemu did know that Yuugi was only polite to his face. He had no real illusions about Yuugi's affections, and of course he had none of his own.

Finally, Seto could not hold back any longer.  
  
"What happened between the two of you?"  
  
Atemu looked up and frowned. "I believe that is between myself and Yuugi."  
  
Seto looked away. He changed the subject. "Now that Yuugi and Katsuya are gone... what are you going to do?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Seto shrugged, not sure what he really meant. Silence fell, while Atemu sipped the tea he had not yet put down and Seto stared into the fire. At least, Atemu spoke.  
  
"Yuugi is expecting to be gone but a fortnight. There is no real reason to keep him there longer than that, and he cannot overstay his welcome in Bonaparte’s court."  
  
Seto nodded. "And if nothing happens between now and then?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Will you believe me even then?"  
  
The question had popped out of Seto's mouth without his intention. Once out, there was no taking it, and its implications, back. Seto did not look at Atemu, the resumed silence weighing the air in the room. Seto realized he could hear Atemu breathing. The sound was labored.   
  
At last, Atemu moved, setting down the cup of tea on its saucer on the table, pushing the blanket from his legs, and getting to his feet. He walked over to Seto, who reluctantly moved his gaze from the fire and looked up. Atemu stood before him, less than an inch from his knees, looking down at him.   
  
"Do you think my reluctance to believe my cousin has murdered my father, my childhood friend, and attempted my life means that I suspicion you instead, Seto?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer he already knew, he added, "Why?"  
  
"It's quite convenient, isn't it?" Seto countered. "You bring me into your life and all this happens."  
  
"Yes, it is quite suspicious."  
  
Seto fell silent, studying Atemu's face. Atemu looked back at him calmly, and he was smiling a little. That expression relaxed Seto.  
  
"You don't think I had anything to do with it," he said.  
  
"I don't even know whether I fully believe 'it' even happened," Atemu said. "Though now that you have placed the thought in my mind, I cannot get it out again. But, no, I don't believe you had anything to do with it."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I trust you."  
  
Seto wanted to ask why again, but he didn't. Instead, he turned to look into the fire again. “Atemu, I was thinking--”

His attention was drawn back when Atemu began coughing. Seto looked up, then rose quickly to his feet, taking Atemu by the elbow as the King nearly bent double, coughing harshly until he was red in the face.  
  
"You should be in bed," Seto said.  
  
"I know," Atemu gasped, breathing raggedly. "But I had matters to attend to."  
  
Seto steered Atemu across the sitting room towards the bedroom, half-supporting him as they walked. Even through the layers of pajamas and robe, Seto could feel the moist heat of Atemu's fever. He was not as well as he had claimed to be. Seto helped him into bed and pulled the covers over him, getting him water again to soothe his throat and help his breathing. When he returned to the bedroom, Atemu was coughing into a handkerchief he held over his face. When he pulled it away, Seto was alarmed to see rust-colored spots on it.  
  
"Is that blood?"  
  
Atemu leaned back against his pillows, looking wan. He lowered the handkerchief, but continued to hold it in his hand. "No. The physician says it is not, at any rate. He says it's normal."  
  
"Where is he? I'll go get him."

Atemu shook his head. "No. I'll be fine."

"Atemu, I would feel better if you let me get the physician for you. You look terrible."

Atemu smiled, eyes closed again. "You are quite the charmer, Seto Kaiba. Very well. I believe at this time of day he would be in his guest quarters. First floor, North wing. Any servant can fetch him."

Seto nodded and stood, leaving Atemu's bedchamber and suite, moving out into the common hall of the South wing. He found a maid cleaning sideboards and informed her that Atemu needed the physician. She nodded, set down her cleaning rags, bunched her skirts, and hurried away. Seto returned to the bedchamber, where he found Atemu was asleep. His breathing was labored and wet-sounding, and when Seto touched his forehead, he found that his fever burned.

He stayed in the chambers until the physician arrived. He withdrew from the bed when the man walked in, setting his leather satchel of medical supplies upon the table by the bed and bending over Atemu.

"When did the King fall asleep?" he asked, taking out a pair of spectacles and putting them on.

"Between the time I left to send for you and the time I returned."

"Did he speak with you?"

"Yes, we were discussing matters and then he began to cough, so I helped him to bed."

The physician glanced up at him, then returned his attention to his patient. "How long did the coughing fit last?"

"I'm not sure. A few minutes."

The physician pulled the handkerchief Atemu was holding from his hand and examined it.

"Is that blood?" Seto asked, wanting to hear it from the doctor himself.

"No. At least, not in the manner you are thinking. Those stricken with pneumonia and other such diseases experience coughing up of sputum, which is largely mucus, with some blood content. It is often rust- or red-colored in pneumonia patients."

Seto nodded. He watched as the doctor felt Atemu's forehead, listened closely to his breathing both with and without a stethoscope, felt his chest, took his pulse, and nodded to himself.

"He's seems about what I could expect. He has a fever and difficult breathing. There is not much we can do for him except to make sure he gets plenty of rest and fluids. I’ll make a plaster for him to wear, but only if he will let me. He is a difficult patient.” Then he looked up, mortified. “Please, don’t tell him I spoke of him that way.”

“I won’t,” Seto said.

The doctor straightened and packed up his medical bag. “He just needs lots of rest. I’ll make the plaster and be back in a couple hours. I’ll have one of the maids come in to try and relieve his fever with some more cold compresses.” He looked up, his spectacles glinting over his eyes. “What is your relationship with him?”

“A friend,” Seto said carefully.

“Good, then perhaps you will be able to exert some influence where I can’t. He needs to stay in bed. He needs his rest. He needs to stop trying to keep his engagements and his plans.”

Seto nodded. “I can only try.”

The physician smiled, snapping shut his bag and picking it up. “I’ll get right to the plaster. If you’re going to stick around for a while, Mr. Kaiba, perhaps you can pass on the word. In any event, I’ll have the maid in here as soon as possible. If he’ll allow it.”

The physician left the suite. Seto sat in a chair and waited, not knowing what else to do. A few minutes after he sat down, a matronly maid entered the room. She barely glanced at Seto before crossing the room to Atemu. She bent down and felt his forehead, then tsked to herself. She went into the bathroom, where Seto heard pouring water. When she came back out, she was holding the pitcher, the bowl, and a washrag. She set it on the table beside the bed, then poured water into the bowl from the pitcher. She dipped the cloth into the water, wrung it out, then placed it across Atemu’s forehead, smoothing back his bangs beforehand. 

“So, who are you, then?” she asked Seto without looking at him.

“A friend.”

“You’re Mister Kaiba, then?”

“Yes.”

She nodded and said nothing more. Likely she didn’t believe she had any right to question him beyond that. The typical British belief that no one’s business was anyone else’s business that was upheld far more by the previous generation than the current one, and far more by those in the service industry than the gentiles. She didn’t care why he was there. 

The maid fussed with pulling Atemu’s covers up and tucking them in, then picking up the cloth and cooling it in the bowl again before wringing it back out and placing it back on Atemu’s forehead. Seto watched, noting that Atemu was completely insensate. 

It was a very good thing indeed that Yuugi had been sent away now.

tbc...


	20. Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty:

Seto ended up being shooed out by the maid. With Atemu unconscious, there was hardly a good reason for him to stay, so he left. He headed home, where he immediately put pen to paper. He wrote to Mokuba, admitting what had transpired during the dinner with the Kensingtons. He knew for sure that the parents would write to Rose, and eventually, Rose would tell Mokuba. It was better he heard it from Seto first.

Seto sent the letter off, then settled back in his chair and thought.

Yuugi and Katsuya were gone. For two weeks, they would be in France, hopefully allowing Atemu enough time to recover. Pneumonia could be very deadly, but he had the best care. 

Seto was fairly certain no new attempts would be made on his life while Yuugi was gone, which would probably be proof enough for Atemu to have Yuugi, or at least Katsuya, formally interrogated.

However, Seto wondered if the pair encompassed the whole of the plot. He still didn’t know what their goal was. If it was a coup, an entire group could be behind it. After all, hadn’t Guy Fawkes’ Night passed not so long ago? Yuugi could easily be heading his own Gunpowder Plot. There had been at least a dozen known members of that. 

To what avail and how deep did it go? Did Yuugi have backing? If so, who? The French? The Indians? The Irish? 

Seto knew there would be no way to find out. Not unless something else happened.

******

In the next week, things hadn’t exactly gotten better for Seto. Everywhere he went, there were whispers. A least three gentlemen had waylaid him, angrily telling him off for his treatment of Charlotte Jones. When he told one of them that he was more than welcome to try courting her himself, the man actually challenged him to a duel. His cooler-headed compatriots dragged him off before anything could come of it, but still, it was an embarrassing episode. 

The reaches of his callousness ended up affecting his business ventures, too. One sponsor pulled out, not being brave enough to state a reason, but Seto could read between the lines. Mr. Jones himself, who didn’t have direct dealings with any of Seto’s business ventures, nevertheless spread about that anything involving him and his would have nothing to do with anyone who had public dealings with a Kaiba. As far as Seto knew, that didn’t yet affect him any, but it could get worse. 

Still, he, and his father before him, had weathered worse storms than this.

Around four days after the episode with Charlotte, Seto received a visit from Alexandra. He hadn’t seen the older woman in some time, but he invited her into his parlor and served her tea.

“I suppose you know why I’m here, Seto,” she said after a few moments getting the tea to her liking. 

“Yes, I do.”

“You’ve upset Charlotte greatly.”

“I’m afraid I can’t say I regret it.”

Alexandra lifted her eyes and speared him with a colder look than she had ever given him before. “I don’t care that you don’t like that gossipy girl, Seto. If I had a son, I’d never allow him to even entertain the idea of courting her. But you really are being ridiculous. While you sit in here, pleased as punch that you’ve upset the silly thing, she’s been around all of London denigrating your very name. One would think even someone as superior as you would understand that is not a good thing.”

“I don’t know that I’m prepared to be insulted in my own living room, Alexandra.”

“Then show me to the street if you like. But it’s not like Charlotte is the only subject of talk. People know all about the parting words of the Kensingtons, Seto. If you haven’t yet seen any fallout from that episode yet, you will. Say all you like about gossip, but gossip is the national pastime and it will color the coming days for you. Not to mention I’ve heard that Rose Kensington is forbidden to associate with your little brother. Shall he suffer your impudence?”

Seto stood. Alexandra looked up at him, still holding her tea cup in one hand. 

“Yes, throw me out, if you like.”

Seto said tightly, “I can handle my own affairs, Alexandra.”

“In this world? No, you can’t. Not even with King Atemu as your best friend, God hurry that child’s recovery. Charlotte means to ruin you, boy, and she’ll do it if you hold to this notion you don’t need anyone.”

Seto sighed and sat back down. “And what would you do?”

“Gossip back. Show my support of you. Anything a lady can do in this society. I knew your mother, Seto, if not well, and whether you want to hear it or not, I know she wouldn’t have wanted this to be your life.”

Seto again nearly threw her out right then for telling him how his mother would think. But he knew it was true. Not only about his mother and Mokuba, but about the affects of Charlotte’s crusade. It was already starting. 

“And what would you have me do?”

“Throw a ball.”

Seto stared at her like she was mad. She saw and smiled, the tension from her gone like a snuffed candle flame. 

“Don’t look at me like that. You want to try to undo the damage, then become a part of that society you hate so much. At least make the most minimum effort.”

“Alexandra--”

“Really, Seto, one would think you I’d asked you to eat a live slug, the look on your face.” She set down her cup and stood. He stood with her. “I’ll speak to the Kensingtons. If not for you, then for Mokuba. The talk for him is quite positive.”

“I’m sure he would appreciate it.”

Alexandra shook her head as he was the most unreasonable person she’d ever met. He saw her out to her carriage and then returned to his study.

Sitting in his chair, fingers steepled in front him, he stared into the fire. Atemu had been able to turn his nose up at society at every turn by virtue of both his own position and his father’s indulgence. Seto had neither grace and he knew it. He would have to do something.

Mokuba had already sent him back a very short, angry letter demanding he find a way to make up. Rose had not yet written him, but there was no question that her family would take Seto’s rudeness out on Mokuba. 

Seto had been tempted to refuse. Mokuba was fourteen. He would find himself another girlfriend in due course. There would be no end to the giggling schoolgirls who would vie for the attention of a rich, friendly Peer. 

But in the end, Seto’s conscience got the better of him. Alexandra was right; it wasn’t about him, it was about Mokuba. His brother would never forgive him if he was the one who got in the way of his doomed little romance. By the virtue of being a teenager, the situation would get warped in Mokuba’s mind, and he would for years be sure it would have all worked out if not for Seto, no matter if even he should have known better. 

So, Seto reluctantly put pen to paper and sent a letter to the Kensingtons, asking them to forgive Mokuba the foolishness of his older brother and not let the teenagers suffer for Seto’s actions. With the letter sealed and sent, he could only await the outcome.

******

Seto had not seen Atemu for days. He had closely monitored any news from the palace, but really there hadn’t been any. Nothing in the papers, the gossip mill had run down without fresh input, and the palace itself provided nothing. Atemu lived, that was all he knew. But despite his status now as someone who could come and go as he pleased, Atemu was the only one he knew, and if Atemu was ill and couldn’t receive him, what valid reason would he have for being there? He had enough rumors about him already.

Then one day, a royal messenger brought a letter. It was signed by Atemu and was very brusque. 

Seto-  
Come to the palace immediately.  
-Atemu

Seto had his carriage readied and made the journey to the palace that afternoon. He was shown in by servants, who had him brought to the throne room rather than to any of Atemu’s private rooms. Puzzled, Seto waited over half an hour before finally Atemu came to him.

Atemu looked somewhat healthier, if worn. He had lost weight in the time of his illness, and he hadn’t had a lot to begin with. His cheeks and eyes were hollowed and sunken and he was very pale. But he was dressed in fine clothes and walked briskly into the throne room with an entourage of guards, a secretary, and others Seto didn’t recognize. He thought they might be members of Parliament. After them came a pair of policeman, wearing uniforms very similar to the uniform Katsuya wore. Between them was a short man wearing a pair of handcuffs, looking unkempt and frightened. He had a mop of carrot-orange hair, very pale blue eyes, a multitude of freckles, and clothes that were so poorly cared for that their color was nondescript and they were torn and dirty. The man was as thin and ill-looking as Atemu and when the two policeman pulled him past Seto, he reeked of body-odor. He was so scared that he was visibly trembling and was more supported by the policeman than his own feet.

Atemu settled himself on his throne and beckoned Seto closer. Without speaking to him, he turned his attention to the terrified man still held up by the policemen while everyone else surrounded the five of them.

“State your name,” Atemu said, voice sharp.

“M-McDonnell, Yer Majesty. Sh-Shamus McDonnell.”

He had a thick Irish accent. His head kept turning as his eyes darted around, seeming about to scream or make a break for it at any point. Neither of the policemen had let go of his arms, though he was standing on his own two feet now. It was clear they weren’t about to, either.

“State your origin,” Atemu went on.

The Irishman did so, still not looking at anything or anyone for longer than a few seconds until his eyes happened on Seto. Then he stared at him for a minute, eyes huge and dilated before looking away again. Seto frowned in confusion at Atemu, who only glanced at him before turning his attention back McDonnell.

“Tell me again what you’ve said before. All of it.”

“I-I-I… Mm… It was me!” he suddenly burst out. “I-I-I moved the markers at the pond! I killed that girl! Was me! I was paid fer it and I did it!”

Shocked, Seto stared at the trembling, filthy man. 

“How did you do it?” Atemu said with studied calmness.

“I… I p-p-put on a hood so no one would reckanize me and went down while you all were at the party. Moved ‘em back so you’d skate out ter the thin ice.” The man began to wail. “I was desperate! Lost m’family, got no money, I was hungry! I’m sorry!”

Atemu’s expression didn’t change. “Who paid you?”

“I never saw him! He was man in a hood. Told me ter do it, too. Came up t’me in the alley, in the dark, thought he was gonna… He held out a purse’a coins and the other hood’n told me ter wear it and move the markers. Never said why. Never said who was supposed’ta get hurt.” The man was sobbing now, face in his hands. With his accent, the crying, and the muffling effect of his hands, he became unintelligible. One of the policemen yanked his hands down roughly and McDonnell raised his head up completely the other way and started screaming at the ceiling. “I hadn’t eaten fer four days! Thought I was gonna die!” 

“You were never told who you were targeting, that’s what you said?” Atemu asked.

“No,” the man moaned. “Said didn’t matter. Said none of m’business. Said no one would ever find out. B-B-But I can’t take it! The guilt! I killed that poor girl!” He started saying a rosary. 

“He came into the precinct last night, Your Majesty,” one of the policeman said. “Drunker than a skunk and raving about killing a girl. Put him in a cell and let him sleep it off. This morning, said it was a girl skating at the royal party. And there was only the one who…” He trailed off.

The secretary was feverishly writing all of this down. Atemu said nothing for a long time. McDonnell was still saying a rosary over and over again between sobs and apologies. He was still staring at the ceiling rather than at anyone. He might have been directing his words directly to God for all Seto knew.

“Tell me more about the man in the hood,” Atemu said finally. “Everything you remember, no matter how minor.”

The Irishman moaned and closed his eyes. He was now hiccupping terribly. Tears and snot ran down his face unheeded and both of the policemen were looking at him with clear disgust. 

“He was taller’n me, was an Englishman, talked like he came from some good family. Not Cockaney, or whatever.” He started to break up again. “It was dark! He was wearing the hood! I was so hungry and I didn’t even really look, I didn’t even think! I just took the money’n said I’d do it!”

“Slow down,” Atemu said commandingly. McDonnell moaned again and hiccupped. “Why would he give you a lot of money before you did anything? How would he know you were going to follow through and not just go back to Ireland?”

“Cain’t go back ter Ireland,” McDonnell said, but continued on just as one of the policemen was starting to reprimand him for changing the topic. “He said he knew who I was and could watch me. Said he’d watch and if I didn’t do it, he’d find me and-and-” McDonnell didn’t finish. Instead he started saying the rosary again.

“Tell me what happened that day,” Atemu said. 

McDonnell didn’t respond for several minutes. Finally one of the policemen shook him. “Answer His Highness!” he barked.

“I got onto the grounds’n stood in the woods ‘til everyone cleared off, then I walked--”

“Wait,” Atemu said. “Got onto the grounds how? How did you know where the pond was or when the party was taking place? How did you get there at all?”

“C-Climbed a tree and went over the wall. Man said side where Gross Winter Place--”

“Grosvenor Place,” one of the policemen said, then winced as Atemu looked at him cuttingly. 

“--is right up to the wall,” McDonnell continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Climbed’n jumped and went ter the pond and hid with the hood on until it was time. Then snuck down and moved the markers. Sure I was gonna get caught, but never was.” He burst out again, “I wish I was! I wish God’a sent some of you Englishmen ter stop me! ‘Fore that girl got hurt! I’m sorry!”

“Enough!” Atemu snapped, now will all trace of calmness gone. “Her name was Lady Helen, Baroness Churchill. You will address her as such!”

McDonnell cringed, put his face in his hands again, and began to wail. 

“Have you ever seen this man before, Kaiba?” Atemu suddenly asked Seto. 

“No.” Seto had a bad feeling he knew exactly why he was there.

“Have you ever seen Seto Kaiba before, McDonnell?” Atemu asked.

“No no no n--”

“One ‘no’ is sufficient. You said something different this morning.”

The bad feeling deepened. McDonnell dropped his hands, stared at Seto with a wild look and said, “I seen him around! Seen him with you! Didn’t know his name!” McDonnell shook his head back and forth, but he wasn’t saying no. “Seen him with you, and his brother, and a girl--” His eyes flicked towards Atemu as if expecting to be chewed out again. “--at the theater. I go there’ta beg for coins…Sometimes the rich folks’ll give coins…”

“How do you recognize him, if you saw him only the once and didn’t know his name?” 

“I reckanized you! Seen you! I remember faces, all faces, that’s all! Never talked to him before!”

Atemu’s next question made sure there was no ambiguity to the situation.

“Could he have been the man in the hood?”

“I d--”

“Think carefully and deeply before you answer! I will consider it when I think about what to do with you.”

McDonnell looked on the verge of starting the rosary again, but he swallowed hard and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Return him to his cell,” Atemu said, suddenly sounding very tired. “Clean him up, get him food, return him to his cell.”

The policemen took McDonnell away. As they went, he started repeating, “I’m sorry Yer Majesty! I’m sorry!” 

“Your Highness, perhaps you should rest,” an attendant said tremulously. 

Atemu stood. “No. I want all of you to hear me well. This is an ongoing investigation into the murder of my closest friend. Nothing said is to leave this room. Nothing is to be discussed with anyone but myself, Imperial Guard Dobbs, or Magistrate Miller. That is a direct order from your King. Am I clear?”

Everyone, including Seto, nodded. Seto also knew that the order would be ignored by someone by sundown.

tbc...

A/N: Reviews are always appreciated.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One:

“Come with me, Kaiba,” Atemu said as he strode down the dais and headed out of the throne room. 

Seto did, aware of three guards following at a pace of a few yards. Atemu said nothing as he walked through the halls of the palace and Seto didn’t either. His mind was racing. McDonnell had admitted to the murder of Lady Helen and attempted murder of Atemu. It was no accident and no crazy act by someone unhinged. It was a direct plot. That much was obvious, but it still didn’t make sense. As assassination attempts, it was reckless and stupid and poorly planned. It also meant that Katsuya and Yuugi were neither of them the man in the hood. At least, not the one at the pond. 

The man in the alley still could have been Katsuya. Seto was sure that McDonnell had to actually be closer to Katsuya’s height than Yuugi’s, but he was much shorter than Seto and unless Seto saw them side by side, he couldn’t be sure if McDonnell was shorter than Katsuya. That didn’t much matter anyway. McDonnell had the look of someone who cringed and scurried around like a rat searching for scraps in the bins, and that was exactly what he was. He could easily have been standing hunched and frightened as he had there in the throne room and thought Katsuya was taller than he was. Or it could have been someone else, of course, but Seto was still sure this came back to Katsuya.

Because it was also clear what this was: a frame-up attempt. 

Atemu led Seto back into his private quarters, leading him into the main sitting area. A maid was just setting out tea with scones and crumpets and she curtsied to Atemu as he dismissed her without even looking at her.

“Out,” Atemu added to the three guards who had followed the two of them in. 

“Your Highness--”

“Out,” Atemu snapped. “Stand outside the doors, but out.”

The three left and the doors closed. Atemu sat down in one of the chairs and gestured Seto into the other. Seto did so, watching as Atemu poured himself some tea and sweetened it with honey. 

“I can no longer be free of them,” Atemu said with a sigh. “Every attempt meets with so much pushback that I just give in.”

He was referring to the guards, Seto thought. After a murder attempt, no doubt that was entirely true. The Captain of the Guard; Atemu’s Senior Gentleman of the Bedchamber, whoever that actually was; probably any Peer or Member of Parliament, they all would insist. Undoubtedly, any attempt by Atemu to have his way would be met with guards just happening to be near. His previous life was definitely over.

“You know why I have asked you here,” Atemu said. He was staring at his tea. 

“Yes.”

“You still think it was Yuugi.”

“Katsuya,” Seto said. “With or without Yuugi.” 

“Perhaps.”

“You asked me here for another reason than for me to know about McDonnell.”

Atemu raised his eyes. He said nothing, waiting for Seto to talk.

“You wanted to make sure McDonnell didn’t mean I was under the hood.”

Atemu snorted and picked up a scone. He took a bite and chewed and swallowed before speaking, “I know you were not the one under the hood, Seto. I wanted McDonnell to say the same for all to hear.”

“Then you know it’s a frame-up.”

“Yes. I do, but others don’t agree.”

This was worse than Seto thought. “I’m an official suspect.”

“Officially, yes. You’re not the only one, but you are. This morning, McDonnell was shown a series of police sketches or photos of everyone at the pond that day to see who he had seen before, including all police and guards. He named you, all of my childhood mates, Yuugi, and some others. He didn’t recognize Katsuya.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’m aware. The Yard has had no run ins with McDonnell except on complaint of ladies with their noses in the air disagreeable about his very existence. In none of those cases was Katsuya ever one of the ones who dealt with him. Katsuya is no member of mine or my father’s court and certainly no friend of mine. He was not at the party. Yuugi, he would have seen with me at times. Or thought he was me.”

Seto had thought the same, once. Their resemblance was far closer than Seto’s to his own brother. 

“Every person named by McDonnell is a suspect. My own vouching is not enough to clear anyone’s name. What little description McDonnell has only clears Yuugi and every woman.”

Because Atemu and Yuugi were the only two of the whole bunch who were both male and shorter than McDonnell. Atemu’s attempt to clear Seto’s name had failed simply because there was too little information. In fact, all it had done was clear Yuugi, at least insofar as being directly responsible. 

“What happens now?” Seto asked.

Atemu sighed. “McDonnell will be executed. When and how is up to me to decide.”

That was not what Seto meant, but he didn’t say anything. It was but the start of justice for Lady Helen and no doubt Atemu’s thoughts were on her rather than Seto. Of course, McDonnell would get a trial, which was why the Magistrate had been there to begin with, to hear what McDonnell had to say before a more official trial started, but ultimately his fate lay with Atemu. He could have been pardoned, though of course that was not in Atemu’s considerations. True, Atemu didn’t actually have to do anything, but it was clear he was not leaving anything to the courts. The fact that he wanted revenge was no surprise, and as King, he would get his way.

“As for you, at least McDonnell didn’t implicate you at all anymore clearly than he did any other of my mates,” Atemu continued. “The investigation will continue. But you recall what I said the last time I saw you.”

Seto was sure he did. That if there were no developments during Yuugi’s time away, Atemu would consider him guilty in his heart if not officially and start the process of having his cousin held responsible. Now, of course, the link between Yuugi and the incident at the pond was foggier than ever.

Seto wondered if that was chance or intentional. He said the same to Atemu.

Atemu shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Seto. I am telling you now. Yuugi is innocent of this whole matter unless I hear otherwise from someone else. He will stay away until the fifteenth and then return home, as planned. I will hear no more from you on that subject. Is that clear?”

Seto almost protested. He understood Atemu’s position, but it meant nothing. Yuugi didn’t have to be the man in the hood to be behind the whole thing. But he stopped himself. Atemu was smart enough to know that. He was telling Seto that the matter was closed because there was nothing else. Seto had no proof, and to accuse Yuugi at all was a dangerous undertaking. The mere fact that Atemu had heard his opinion at all was extraordinary and Seto had not understood that so clearly until right then. A virtual stranger had accused Atemu’s blood of treason against the crown with no proof and no good reason to suspect except that Yuugi and Atemu clearly hated each other. Seto didn’t believe so much in coincidence, but it could be that and they both knew it. 

It was for Seto’s sake that the matter was indeed closed.

“It’s clear,” he said softly.

“Good. Return home, Seto.” Atemu set down his cup of tea and looked Seto in the eyes. “I do not suspect you. But you are a suspect. As such, all indulgences are withdrawn. You are banned from the Palace. Return again without my express permission and you will be arrested. If this is a frame-up from Katsuya, then don’t make it easier for him. Begone. You and I are over.”

tbc...


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two:

Naturally, as Seto had suspected, what had happened in the throne room was the gossip of the day almost immediately. In the few days since Atemu had thrown Seto out, Seto had not left his manor, but twice he heard servants gossiping about the Irishman who had admitted to killing Lady Helen and that their master had been questioned about his involvement. That was not exactly what had happened, which only served to ensure to Seto that the word in London and elsewhere was even worse. 

Seto’s initial impulse had been to dismiss all of the servants he had overheard gossiping, but he didn’t follow through. They were human, plus to do so might only solidify any suspicion against him. Instead, he gathered everyone together and told them in no uncertain terms that gossip was not to be permitted and Atemu had brought him there to clear his name, as he was doing with all of the suspects. 

“We weren’t meaning to make it sound like we suspected ya none, Master Kaiba,” the same messenger who had delivered Seto’s letter to Atemu said. His eyes were huge and earnest. “We--”

“I don’t care what any of you think,” Seto said. “I am only setting you straight. Get back to work.”

Everyone hurried out, except the butler, who was holding mail on a serving tray. Unsurprisingly, that day’s delivery was big. As every day had been since the day in the throne room. 

Seto unceremoniously tossed every letter from a nobleman or Peer into the fire without even looking at it, but kept three things: A letter from Alexandra, a letter from the Kensingtons, and a card from Scotland Yard. That last gave him an ominous feeling, and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with it, so he set it aside.

The letter from Alexandra was to the point. She informed him that she’d had tea with a number of her friends and a lunch with Adam Chesterfield, his parents, and her daughter, Anne. During both occasions, she’d brought up Seto to feel out the scope of public thought on him. Some of her own friends denounced him as standoffish and callous, which Seto was not exactly surprised about, but two agreed that Charlotte was a childish, selfish idiot and that Seto had made it quite clear he wasn’t interested. They agreed that he shouldn’t have been so rude in a public place, but they didn’t blame him. Anne and Adam both supported Seto, for they knew Charlotte quite well, all four of the younger generation being about the same age, stating that Charlotte should have taken the hint. Mr. Chesterfield said he didn’t care a whit about the personal life of anyone, and that Seto was a good businessman and that was what mattered. Mrs. Chesterfield only said that the pair were clearly not meant for each other. 

So, no need to be too worried, the letter ended. But he should still consider hosting some form of event, for the older generation was still in power for the time being, and for them, public opinion of him was skewed against him. 

Seto tossed the letter into the fire.

The letter from the Kensingtons was not at all better. Mr. Kensington stated that his wife wanted nothing to do with him and that Mokuba may be better than his brother, but still under the care of a man they had no interest in knowing more of. The letter implied that any association with Seto would cause Rose to fail as an acceptable citizen, and that Mokuba might still come to suffer the same fate.

Seto tore that letter up before it went into the fire.

It was Eleventh February. Yuugi and Katsuya would be home in less than four days. There was nothing to be done about it. McDonnell would be rightfully convicted and executed for the murder of Lady Helen and the attempted murder of Atemu. Whether he had been set into action by someone else did not matter. And he didn’t know who he had accepted the contract from and nothing could be proven. If Yuugi still wanted to get rid of his cousin, he had free reign to try again and all the time in the world. Whether he tried again next week or next year.

The Valentine’s Day party at the palace had been cancelled in the wake of Lady Helen’s death. Unlike the public mourning parade for King Aknamkanon’s funeral, hers had been a private affair and she had been interred in her family’s mausoleum with her mother. The Ball had been officially cancelled the day after.

Not that that had stopped much of the nobility from continuing with their own plans, nor was there any good reason to. As beloved as Lady Helen clearly had been to those who knew her, and as sympathetic as many Britons were to their King, life went on and Atemu had survived his frigid plunge. So, for the Peers who were still on Seto’s side, the invitations to their social events had not stopped. Though, for the first time, nothing had come from Charlotte Jones.

As he had no interest in anyone’s plans, Seto turned his attention to the card from Scotland Yard. Why something had been sent while Katsuya was in France made little sense to Seto, but he was not surprised to see that the second-in-command, an officer named Brown, requested Seto’s presence at his earliest convenience. As it could be about nothing but the skating party incident, Seto decided not to waste time in complying. 

Maybe with Katsuya out of the picture, he could get some more information. The fact that Atemu had cut all ties with Seto hadn’t dulled Seto’s desire to get to the bottom of this any. Katsuya wanted to play games with Seto, did he? 

******

“Mr. Kaiba,” Brown greeted politely when Seto entered Scotland Yard headquarters the following day. “Very kind of you to come so quickly, sir.”

“It’s a matter of importance, I presume,” Seto said carefully.

“Yes, indeed, sir. Please, this way. Would you care for a cuppa?”

“No.”

Brown led Seto into another officer that was next door to Katsuya’s. It even more organized than the other, with not a paper or file in sight. Seto settled into an indicated chair and Brown went around the desk to sit in his own chair.

“The Captain’s away at the moment,” Brown said. “So, it falls to me to take up the investigation on the incident on Thirtieth January. We’ve had a new development, that I know you already know about.”

“Yes.”

“’S’important enough I don’t wait for the Captain. So, begging your luxury, sir, I’d like to ask a few questions ‘bout that day.”

“Feel free.”

Brown seemed surprised and delighted by Seto’s easiness. If he’d had to deal with any other nobles, and Seto doubted he was the first Brown had spoken with directly, it was probably not an easy investigation. Many of Seto’s peers would consider being questioned by the police an insult in of itself, and Seto himself would not have been happy about it if it hadn’t been important to him. 

“Do you know McDonnell at all, sir?”

“I’ve never seen him before.”

Brown nodded. “I didn’t think so, sir, but you never know. McDonnell is nothing much. Been in Britain about ten years, got no one in the world, but is no trouble for an Irishman. The fact that he did this is a bit surprising. But what can you really expect from an Irishman anyway?”

Seto didn’t reply. The Great Potato Famine in Ireland was four years over, but its affects remained in progress and the Irish were not fond of the British. The sentiments were returned and Seto wondered if Katsuya had deliberately chosen an Irishman as his scapegoat or if it had simply happened out that way. 

Suddenly, Seto had a thought. If Katsuya or Yuugi had deliberately sussed out an Irishman to do the dirty work, they could be attempting an Irish rebellion. With the Crimean War still going on, rumors of discontent in India circulating, large swaths of the population boom in poverty, and the general upheaval of the Reform Acts, a war with Ireland could pull Britain’s focus into too many directions. Atemu, as a new King, was being watched closely, and his youth as a rebel had not won him any points with the generations of his father and grandfather. 

Maybe the skating party attempt wasn’t so stupid. Although they had had no way of ensuring Atemu was the one who fell through the ice, if this was their goal, they didn’t have to. Either Yuugi killed his cousin or he started an Anti-Irish sentiment, tanked Atemu’s popularity, started a Revolution, and stepped into the breach to take power. 

A more morbid thought occurred. Only one pair of skaters had happened to fall through, but it easily could have been more, including children. Only the two had gone in, thanks to the timing of Atemu and Helen being the first back out on the ice after lunch, so their circuits had been at odds with others by a few yards. The weight of repeated passes had weakened the thin ice until Atemu and Lady Helen had had the misfortune of being over it when it gave, but at the time they’d gone in, a group of at least twenty had been coming around the side of the lake, and they wouldn’t have hesitated to skirt the edge of the markers anymore than Atemu had been, trusting that they were properly placed and safety ensured. Atemu and Helen might not have been the target at all, just anyone who happened to be unlucky. 

If that was the case, Yuugi was far more dangerous than Seto had even given him credit for.

tbc...


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three:

“Captain’s reports say you saw McDonnell down by the lake the day it happened,” Brown went on. “You’re sure he was alone?”

“No,” Seto said, both because it was the truth and because he still believed Yuugi and Katsuya were in on it together and so putting the idea of more than one perpetrator in the officers’ minds might be beneficial, though McDonnell’s confession should already have done that. “Even without foliage, the brush was too thick for much of a view.”

Brown nodded, taking notes. “McDonnell said someone paid him. That he was approached with the bribe on the twenty-second, the week before the party. Were you in London on that date?”

Reluctantly, Seto agreed that he was. “I was shopping with my younger brother for school things. He was to return to school on first, the day after the party.”

“When did you return home?”

“I’m not exactly sure. In time for supper.”

“Your staff and brother could corroborate?”

“Yes.” They could, though it wouldn’t matter much considering all would have good reason to validate Seto’s story, true or not. He was sure Officer Brown knew that. 

“Did anyone leave the party that you remember?”

Here, Seto lied. He could have easily have named Yuugi as having left the party and later rejoined, because he had, but he knew implicating Yuugi even faintly with zero evidence wasn’t smart. He’d have known that even if Atemu hadn’t stressed it to him.

“Not that I am aware of, but there were a lot of attendees.”

Brown frowned slightly, but still nodded while writing. “Some of your peers stated the King’s cousin and a man named Alfred Brown--no relation--both left during the festivities.”

Seto was surprised someone else had said anything about Yuugi, but he didn’t correct himself or make a comment. Brown continued.

“Alfred Brown left entirely, but to attend another function. Still, he could have had time to meet McDonnell.” Brown flipped through his notebook, then withdrew a small photograph. He held it out to Seto. “Alfred Brown. Do you recognize this man?”

Seto glanced at the photograph, but he genuinely had no idea who he was and said so. The policeman took the photo back and returned it to his notebook. 

“No matter.”

Seto understood what was happening. Brown was undoubtedly at the top of the list of suspects. He’d been in attendance, he’d left, he was a man who was probably taller than McDonnell, and he was undoubtedly rich. He had the ability and means to put McDonnell in motion. The police were merely looking for the motive.

What could Seto do? The police were under immense pressure to get to the bottom of this, and a flimsy connection would probably be enough for them. Seto didn’t know Alfred from Adam, so if he tried to vouch for him, the police would wonder why. And he didn’t know if he dared to send a letter to Atemu. Even with Atemu’s favor, he would be appearing to be beating the dead horse on Yuugi’s guilt. 

Seto had no recourse.

“Does nothing else stand out in your mind, sir? No matter how trivial?”

“No.”

“Very well. I thank you for your time.”

Seto left the Yard, quite sure that Yuugi and Katsuya would soon have their unfortunate scapegoat in a box.

******

Fifteenth February arrived. As far as Seto could tell, Alfred Brown had not been arrested, but he had been questioned even more than Seto, and the whispers were rampant. An op-ed had appeared in the paper, attempting to proclaim Alfred’s innocence through a character defense, but that didn’t mean much.

Mokuba had written home, having actually heard from Rose now. His letter was full of anger and hurt, again demanding Seto do something, and then outright accusing Seto of caring more about his pride than his brother. That stung as well as angered him, but his hands were tied on that matter, too. He couldn’t very well beg the Kensingtons to see him, and not just for his pride. 

To appease Alexandra a bit and to test her reports, Seto had attended her Valentine’s function. Then after the sixth person had tried to fish details about the skating incident and McDonnell out of him, with one all but asking Seto if he had anything to do with it, he left early. 

McDonnell’s trial had not yet started. It was set for Monday, the twenty-second, allowing all Valentine’s functions to be over with and to make sure the public had nothing else on their minds. 

Yuugi and Katsuya were home. What happened next was anyone’s guess.

What did happen next Seto could never have predicted.

On the eighteenth, he was heading from lunch to one of his business holdings to do his monthly check in on its operations when Katsuya himself stepped into Seto’s way as he was crossing the street. Accompanying him were Brown and two other policemen. Seto’s servants were pushed away by the two unnamed officers and Katsuya and Brown stepped right up to Seto. 

Katsuya was in full uniform. He was unsmiling as Brown reached out to stop Seto. With extreme gentleness and deference, but clear firmness, Brown asked Seto to accompany them. A police carriage had pulled up and one of the two unnamed policemen opened the carriage door. 

“What is this about?” Seto demanded, staring directly at Katsuya.

“Sir, really, you should first come with us--”

“What is this about?” Seto repeated, still looking at Katsuya.

Still unsmiling, Katsuya spoke quietly enough that no one but Seto, the policemen, and Seto’s servants could hear. In view of his men and the public, he was acting exactly the way a proper constable would.

“You’re under arrest for suspicion of murder, Seto Kaiba,” he said.

“What?” Seto snapped. “You know I had nothing to do with Lady Helen’s--”

“Get in the carriage, Kaiba,” Katsuya said, voice a little louder. “I can put you in handcuffs if you’re going to be difficult.”

With little choice, Seto climbed into the carriage. One of the two unnamed policeman joined the driver in the driver’s box, while Katsuya, Brown, and the other one got in back with Seto. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Seto snarled as the carriage headed down the road.

Katsuya only stared at him silently, his face a stone mask. 

“In due time, Mr. Kaiba,” Brown said. 

The ride to their destination took some time, and Katsuya and Seto never stopped looking at each other. Seto couldn’t help but notice that Katsuya’s façade was perfect. There was nothing on his face. 

The carriage finally stopped. Seto was not exactly surprised to see that they had arrived at the Surrey House of Correction. It was a godawful gaol, and Seto had already heard from several sources that it was the current residence for McDonnell.

“Constable, I demand you tell me what is going on,” Seto said.

Katsuya grabbed his arm. “Oh, I will, in just a moment. Come on, Kaiba.”

The two unnamed cops and Brown were right behind them. Fuming, Seto yanked his arm from Katsuya’s grasp, but followed him into the gaol. It reeked and there were screams and nutty laughter. Prison reform was on the rise, but at the moment, this was largely what was offered Britain’s criminals.

That, or transport to Australia.

Katsuya led him down through the hallways, ignoring the catcalls and threats from inmates, to the end of one of the blocks, which was empty starting from the fifth cell down. Down there, on the left, was a cluster of policemen, one operating a clunky bellows camera. The group of five all snapped to attention as Katsuya approached.

“Sir, we’ve cleared out the prisoners, taken the photographs, and lain all the markers,” one said.

“Good. Step back. Come here, Kaiba.”

Seto stepped forward, dread beginning to wash over him. 

“You wanted to know what for,” Katsuya said as he stepped up beside him.

Seto peered into the cell. Spread eagle on the floor, eyes and mouth open wide, lay the body of Shamus McDonnell. It was not a gruesome scene. The hapless Irishman was unmarked and there was no blood except for a small, crown-sized spot slightly to the left of his breast bone.

Protruding from that spot was a thin, ornately carved metal blade. 

Seto recognized it at once.

It was his missing letter opener.

tbc...

A/N: I've made some tiny changes to previous chapters. Hardly anything at all; mostly just editing speech, correcting a date, and lengthening the scene in the opera house. Just FYI.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four:

Slowly, Seto turned from the corpse to Katsuya. The blonde man looked up at him calmly and intently. His face was still carefully neutral, but Seto wondered if he wasn’t imagining a look of glee in his eyes.

_I told you, I can destroy you._

“What do you have to say, Kaiba?” Katsuya asked.

What could Seto say? Accusing Katsuya of planting the letter opener would be stupid. Denying he’d had anything to do with McDonnell’s death was expected, but with that letter opener sticking out of his chest as plain as day, he wouldn’t be believed. Attempting to push his position as reason to be released could get him a beating. Really, he had no choice.

“I say I didn’t kill him.”

Katsuya snorted. “You deny that letter opener is yours? I can see the seal.”

“It is mine. It was misplaced weeks ago.”

Katsuya laughed. “Oi, that’s convenient. You didn’t report it, eh?”

“I said misplaced. If I had known it was stolen, I would have reported it.”

“Convenient,” Katsuya repeated. “You’re under arrest, Kaiba. I hope you won’t resist.”

Knowing bait when he saw it, Seto shook his head. “Of course not. Though I request you contact my family solicitor.”

“Immediately,” Brown said. “Very well, Kaiba. Suppose we’ll remand you at Charleston House.”

Charleston House was actually a house, or was until the last of the Charlestons had died merely five years ago. He had had no idea it was part of His Majesty’s Prison Service now. The House was only about a mile from Scotland Yard headquarters, so probably they had acquired the place after the death to remand prisoners of noble rank.

Seto didn’t resist. Katsuya didn’t accompany them as Brown and the two unnamed officers led Seto back through the gaol and to the carriage. Probably he wanted to stay behind and ensure the ‘evidence’ was thoroughly marked as showing Seto was the murderer.

On the way to Charleston House, Seto sat quietly beside Brown, musing. He had underestimated Katsuya. Simply accusing him and pitting his word against Seto’s had been all Seto was expecting. Instead, somehow, he had broken into Seto’s manor and stolen the letter opener. But how? Seto’s manor was remote, he had a dozen staff--

Katsuya had gotten McDonnell to work for him with a bribe and a threat. Doing the same to one of Seto’s staff was hardly out of his reach. One of the maids, his butler, or even the Cockney letter runner could have secreted the letter opener to him. He needn’t have broken in at all. 

What could Seto do? All evidence was against him. The letter opener was his, McDonnell hadn’t been able to deny Seto was the man under the hood, and he had means for all three of the deaths. He’d been at the palace just before King Aknamkanon’s illness, had been at the lake the day Lady Helen had drowned, and been in London both during the time McDonnell had been bribed and when he’d been murdered. 

At Charleston House, Seto was placed in what appeared to be a office almost exactly like his at home. It was still richly furnished and a fire blazed in the fireplace. A maid even brought Seto tea, which he ignored. He was then locked in while his family’s solicitor was summoned. 

Seto went to the window and peered out. He was on the third floor of the manor. There was no balcony and from the window he could see two guards stationed outside the back door that led to the gardens as well as two more walking towards each other along the perimeter of the high wall surrounding the property. 

It was supper before the solicitor arrived. A man thirty years older than Seto, he was possessed of a sharp, cutting voice, a look that could quell a rabid dog, and intimate knowledge of all of Britain’s laws. 

“Well, Master Kaiba,” Mr. Andrews said as he hung up his top coat and hat on the waiting coat rack. “If all else, I suppose at least now I have a reason to validate my retainer.”

Seto glared at him. Mr. Andrews was not the least bit ruffled. He had a briefcase in his hand and he set it on the desk, then turned his eyes on the officer who had seen him in.

“Privacy between solicitor and client is paramount,” he snapped. “You lot will get your turn when I have asked *my* questions.”

The officer colored, but retreated and shut the door. The lock closed with a loud clunk. Mr. Andrews turned back to the desk and seated himself in the padded wingback at the head of it without a word. Seto remained standing by the window. The solicitor took some time gathering a legal pad, a fountain pen, and his reading glasses from their various holders. 

“Firstly, Master Kaiba, for formality’s sake. Will I be defending a guilty man?”

“Of course not,” Seto snarled. 

Mr. Andrews only nodded. “Then, if you would, tell me everything.”

Seto did, watching Mr. Andrews make copious notes in his tiny, neat handwriting. He asked few questions until Seto was finished, then set aside his notes before starting on a fresh page.

“Let’s verify a few things. You saw the letter opener closely enough to be sure it was yours?”

“Yes. I could see my family’s seal. So could Constable Katsuya.”

“Like the one on your ring?” He gestured to Seto’s hand.

“Yes.”

“The letter opener disappeared when?”

“I noted it missing the day of the party.”

“But you had it the day before?”

“Yes.”

“The party was on a Sunday. There is no post on Sunday. Why were you looking for your letter opener?”

“I didn’t get around to opening all of Saturday’s correspondence. I planned to finish before the party.”

“How easily could the letter opener have been taken?”

“Quite easily, if one of my staff did it.”

Mr. Andrews looked up. “You suspect someone?”

Seto told him his theories. Mr. Andrews nodded and made some more notes. 

“Who would you suspect?”

Seto considered. His butler had been with his family since the last few years of his grandfather’s life. The cook and both groundskeepers had been hired by his father at some point. Mrs. Galley had been with his mother’s family long before she married his father and had come with her mistress to the Kaiba manor. Her two underlings were newer, but each had been with the family for at least five years. Seto couldn’t remember for sure. The steward and the driver had both been hired by Seto himself within the last year. The previous steward had retired and the previous driver had been killed in a bar fight in London. His personal messenger was the newest addition to the household staff, having been brought on the previous June. All were well paid by the Kaiba family, more so than many others in their fields of work, though hardly in exorbitant amounts. A little more cash would probably not be amiss to any, even Mrs. Galley, and Seto said so.

Mr. Andrews sighed. “Quite a lot to question, but I’ll have my assistants get on it. I suspect the police will be doing the same. Has anything else gone missing?”

“Not to my knowledge. And here, I can’t look to be sure.”

“I won’t be able to get you to your own home before your first meeting with the magistrates. That won’t be until tomorrow at the earliest. As it’ll be Friday, they won’t be too interested in much work either. But I believe I can get bail. It might be costly.”

“I don’t care.”

“Shall I inform Younger Master Kaiba of these events?”

“Yes. And tell him to stay at school. He has nothing to do with this and the police will not upset him.”

Mr. Andrews fixed him with that unconcerned eye of his. “I can’t say for sure that his presence won’t be requested. I quite suspect everyone you’ve ever even looked at will be thoroughly questioned.”

Seto grit his teeth and said nothing. 

“Still, he shall not be questioned without my presence. And considering you are his only legal guardian, I doubt without your presence either. Well, Master Kaiba. Can you think of anything else to tell me?”

“No.”

“Then let’s move on to who might be interested in your downfall for murder. Like all noblemen, I suspect the list is quite long, and neither of us has had our supper. Let’s start with those who might benefit financially.” 

Seto wasn’t about to point the finger at Yuugi or Katsuya to Mr. Andrews. Nor would he be saying anything to the magistrates about it either. Implying it was a frame-up was as close as he’d be able to get. So, he half-heartedly went through a list of those who had grudges against him, including Charlotte Jones. He didn’t suspect that airhead to have had anything to do with this, but his public row with her and the Kensingtons would not be ignored. 

“Quite a lot of people to question,” Mr. Andrews said again. “Any letters you wish me to pass on?”

“Yes.” 

Seto took the legal pad and fountain pen from him and wrote a letter to Mokuba. He told him what had happened, told him to stay put, and told him to speak with no one but Mr. Andrews himself. Mr. Andrews slipped the letter into a envelope, sealed it with his firm’s seal, then tucked it into his breast pocket. The rest he put back into his briefcase. 

“One more thing, Master Kaiba. Do you fear for your safety?”

Seto hadn’t considered that. What would be the point of framing him, then killing him? Still, Katsuya and/or Yuugi had done several unhinged things and one would have to be quite mad to be a killer anyway.

“I’m not sure,” he said finally.

Mr. Andrews looked over the rims of the reading glasses he hadn’t removed yet. “The magistrates won’t have much interest in that, but it won’t be remiss of me to have one of my assistants here with you. Collins or Randall?”

“You need ask?”

Mr. Andrews smiled faintly. Collins was a loudmouth who knew no shortage of miscellaneous facts he liked to insert into any conversation, no matter the topic, and had no awareness of whether his companions appreciated those tidbits or not. Randall, in comparison, hardly seemed to possess a voice. 

“Randall it is. It’ll be late before he can make it.”

Seto nodded. He truly didn’t expect to be murdered in the next few hours, or at all. 

No, what he expected was to stew in Charleston House until Katsuya and Yuugi could finish putting together the case against him, making it airtight and having Seto swing for murder.

tbc...

A/N: Disclaimer! My knowledge of British slang comes from Harry Potter, Black Butler, and other such sources.


End file.
